


Every Night I Burn

by allthenobodyppl



Category: Glass (2019), Split (2016)
Genre: Dancing, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Strip Tease, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthenobodyppl/pseuds/allthenobodyppl
Summary: Originally a smutty oneshot named “Dennis’ Proclivity” but I was inspired to turn it into a full-fledged story and changed the title to better fit the new chapters, as it is no longer just about Dennis’ proclivity.This takes place during and after Split. After Dennis has captured Casey, Claire, and Marcia, he becomes fixated on Casey. It started out as fantasizing about what he wanted to do to her, but then it became more than that. It was no longer enough to just fantasize about her; he wanted her. His feelings for Casey are just enough to make him question the morality of the Beast’s revolution.
Relationships: Casey Cooke/Dennis
Comments: 119
Kudos: 111





	1. Keep Dancin’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has very slight simulated dub-con elements.

Dennis shoves the dark-haired girl into the storage closet next to the blonde and slams the door shut in her face. “Stay in there!” he shouts, “If you come outta there, I- I’ll…. _Just stay there!”_

His face is red and his chest is heaving as he stalks to the living room where he keeps his tool bag. He grabs it with barely restrained rage and goes back to the closet. The dark-haired girl is significantly cowed by Patricia and did not try to leave her confinement. He begins drilling a lock in place. He’s infuriated at her impudence, attacking them and then trying to run. It’s not that she managed to hurt them because her strike is useless at most and feeble at best; if she was smart, she would have aimed for their head. The audacity of it all is what has him aggravated. He shoves the electric drill back into his tool bag with a little too much force. He brings the bag back to its original place and starts pacing the living room with his hands clenched; breathing heavily through slightly parted lips.

He fumes for a few minutes before turning on his heel and making his way to the spare room. He finds the third girl sitting on one of the cots, her knees pulled towards her chest. She’s the one that can still have the luxury of staying in a room with a bed (sort of) and not in a storage closet. He remembers the other girls calling her Casey. He sits down heavily at the edge of her cot, facing her. His sudden weight makes her bounce a little and she flinches ever so slightly.

“The dark-haired girl, she's gonna be kept in anotha’ closet,” Dennis snaps. “You might as well know at this point. The Beast? He's comin’ for you. All three’a you, you're gonna be kept separate.”

She looks subdued as she is unable to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. He glances down at her shirt and notices that it’s filthy. He gestures towards her incredulously. “You've got...” he huffs, “You've gotta _crumb_ on your _shirt_.”

His face contorts in anguished disgust. “Please, take it off.” He drops his head to his hand and squeezes his other hand into a fist on his thigh. “Just... just take it off. Fucken… take it _off_ …”

She looks up at him with her eyes wide and mouth opened. Dennis could swear she looks like she is showing concern for him as he desperately sputters about needing her to remove her dirty clothing. He could _swear_ he sees understanding in her face and not judgement. She breaks eye contact with him and looks down onto the cot. She methodically unzips her hoodie, slides it off of her shoulders, slips it pasts her arms, and finally hands it to him.

He glares at the hoodie she is holding out to him. He takes it from her, brushing his fingers against hers for the briefest moment. She doesn’t recoil from his touch. He stands and leaves the room with his fingers buried in the clothing. He makes sure to lock the door behind him.

* * *

Dennis is sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed. His brows are furrowed as he stares at Casey’s hoodie, folded neatly on top of the chair in front of him. He has spot cleaned the crumb off of her hoodie instead of throwing it out like what he did to the rest of the girls’ soiled clothing.

He reaches out and picks up the hoodie, letting the fabric fall and gather onto his lap. He rubs the worn material between his fingers; then he slowly brings the hoodie towards his face and inhales. It smells clean, like it’s been freshly laundered not long ago, mixed with a scent that’s a bit more unique to her. It’s not unpleasant. He presses the hoodie against his face and breathes deeply.

Casey is the only one that has been good; she _behaves_. She hasn’t once resisted and she listens to every word he says. She looks sweet; there is not an ounce of petulance about her as she lets him scold her and take her shirt away. She’s done everything he’s asked of her. He wonders how much she will let him get away with. He can feel heat pool into his groin, hardening his cock.

Maybe he can let her out of her room. She’s a good girl; he’s sure she will continue to listen to him. She won’t try to run; not like there is anywhere for her to run to. Even if she tries, he can chase her down. Chase her down because he’s a bad, bad man and she’s a soft little thing. Even if she screams, no one can hear her and he can keep her quiet. But no, he wouldn’t need to; she’ll do what he tells her. She’ll be good to him.

He imagines he will go into her room. She’ll be sitting on her cot and she’ll look at him expectantly. He’ll take her by the hand and lead her to the living room. She won’t shrink away from him; she’ll hold his hand willingly. He’ll put a little music on; then he’ll let her go and relax on the couch, spreading his legs just a bit too wide.

“Dance for me,” he will say.

And she will do it. My God, she will do it. She won’t be terribly good, but it will be good enough. More than good enough. It will be everything he has ever wanted. She’ll be timid; she’ll be awkward; she’ll be unsure of her movements. She’ll have no idea how titillating she naturally is. He’ll shift in his seat and his erection would swell in his pants obviously. He won’t hide it; he won’t need to. He imagines she will blush when she catches sight of him palming his bulge.

“Take off your shoes and socks,” he will say, “Put ‘em over there. Neatly.”

She’ll lean over and untie her shoe laces, unintentionally giving him a view of her cleavage. She’ll pull her shoes off, tuck her socks into them, and place them off to the side.

“Take off your shirt and hand it to me.”

She will freeze and look at him with widened eyes, lips parted in a silent refusal.

“Don’t be nervous,” he will reassure her. “Take off your shirt.”

She will look down to his feet and slowly bring her fingers to the hem of her white V-neck.

“Don’t stop dancin’.”

She will gently sway her hips from side to side as she gradually peels her shirt up. She’ll pull her shirt over her head and then hand it to him. He’ll reach further than necessary and grasp onto her forearm; then he will draw his hand down, caressing her skin until he reaches the V-neck, and take it from her. He will fold it and place it next to him. Her hair would have become a bit messy and fallen over her features and her chest.

“Pull your hair away from your face,” he will say, “I wanna see you.”

She’ll do it as she continues to delicately dance to the music. He doesn’t know what kind of bra she’ll have on, so he imagines she’ll be wearing a cute white lacy one. It will be impeccably clean and the brightest white possible. She would have a soft figure; not too slim and not too athletic. She would have a tiny little lower belly; she wouldn’t have a flat stomach.

“Turn around. Take off your pants. Slowly.”

She will turn, having her back towards him, and tug her leggings down one restrained inch at a time; bending over to pull her leggings off her ankles. He will admire her ass and grope his crotch. He imagines her panties will match her bra, white and lacy.

“Give me your pants.”

When she moves, her thighs and ass will jiggle. He likes that. She’ll hand him her leggings and he’ll take it from her, brushing his fingers against hers again. He will fold it and place it on top of her shirt.

“Good. Keep dancin’.”

He will watch her for a few more moment. When a new song starts, he will say, “Now, take off your bra.”

She’ll do it, but she will be hesitant; she will unhook her bra with shaky fingers and let the straps slide down her shoulders. He’ll extent his hand, gesturing her to give him her bra. She’ll pass it to him, but then she’ll unconsciously wrap her arms around her chest in an attempt to cover herself.

He’ll tsk softly, “Move your hands.”

She’ll snap her arms to her side, realizing her mistake and not wanting to irk him. This will please him and he’ll smile.

“Dance.”

She’ll continue to dance for him. Her hair would fall over her chest and she would pull back without him even needing to tell her.

“Good girl.”

He’ll admire her perky breasts as she sway to the music. He’ll sigh, content, and relax a little further into the couch, rubbing his cock through his pants.

“Take off your panties.” His voice would be a bit husky. “Slowly.”

She’ll hook her thumbs into the hips of her panties and steadily pull them down. The trend nowadays is a shaved or a waxed groin, so that’s what he imagines she will have. He’ll lick his lips as she gives him the last article of her clothing. He’ll take it from her and place it with the rest of her garments next to him.

“Come here.” He’ll wave her towards himself.

She’ll shyly walk closer until she’s right in front of him. He’ll eye her body hungrily and he’ll reach out to tenderly brush his finger tip over her lower lips. She’ll shiver and it will make him shiver as well. He’ll part her folds and stare at her, looking at her little clit that is still hidden inside its hood. She’ll be embarrassed at his inspection; her face would be so red and adorable and she won’t be able to look at him.

He’ll press his lips against her clit in a quick kiss and he will feel her jump. He’ll lay little pecks against her folds until the pearl presents itself. He’ll lightly nuzzle the hardened bud with his lips before releasing her and sitting back.

“Sit on my lap.”

Her eyes will dart around the room in a mild panic and she wouldn’t move.

“Don’t be afraid,” he’ll whisper, “I’ll take care’a you.”

He will place his hands on her hips and draw her closer to him. He’ll pull at her until she has to spread her legs and straddle his lap; until her cunt is pressed against his bulge. He’ll rub his hands against the curve of her ass, squeeze, and then move upwards, caressing her ribs before cupping a breast in each hand. He’ll fondle her, taking his time to enjoy the softness of her skin; watching her pink nipples harden. She’ll tremble at his ministrations and her breath will quicken. She’ll watch him rub delicate little circles around her nipples; watch the tip move against his fingers.

He’ll drag his hands to her upper back and pull her towards him until her breasts are right in his face. He’ll make her feed her nipple into his awaiting mouth. He’ll dart his tongue out to flick against the stiff peak and she’ll flinch but he’ll hold her still. He’ll wrap his lips around the sensitive nub and suck. He imagines she’ll involuntarily moan and it will make him shudder. His tongue will trace a line to her other breast and he will suck that one too, giving equal attention to each nipple. He’ll kiss one and then the other; he’ll go back and forth wetly until he feels her instinctively rub herself against his groin. He will moan and lay his head on one of her breasts, nuzzling her supple flesh against his cheek. He wants to feel her soft tits pressed against the skin of his chest.

Pulling away, he will take her hands and guide it to his collar. “Take off my shirt.”

She’ll finger the button on his collar with shaky hands until she manages to pop it open; then she will move onto the next. She’ll move a little too slow, but he’ll be patient and he won’t rush her; he’ll stroke her thighs and ass as she works. When she reaches the buttons on his abdomen, she’ll have to tug the rest of his shirt out of his pants. His breath will hitch when he feels her pull the fabric loose. She’ll part his shirt and push it past his shoulders. He’ll let her run her hands against his biceps as she slides it down. He’ll help her when she reaches his wrists and pull the rest of the shirt off. He’ll feel compelled to fold it, but he won’t because he doesn’t want to waste more time. He’ll just drape the shirt across the arm rest.

She’ll brush against his abdomen with her fingertips, making eye contact with him and silently asking his permission to take off his undershirt. He’ll nod a little too eagerly. She’ll pull his undershirt over his head and he’ll raise his arms. She’ll automatically drape it on the armrest on top of his button up.

“Good,” he’ll praise.

He’ll sweep her long hair away as it would have fallen over her breasts and then he’ll pull her towards him, pressing her gorgeous tits against his chiseled chest.

He’ll look up to her and say, “Kiss me.”

She’ll lean forward and press her quivering lips against his. He’ll snake his tongue out and lick at the seam until she relents and let him deepen the kiss. He’ll groan, full of yearning, as he pulls her tighter against him. She’ll grunt into his mouth as she feels him squeeze her body into a bear hug with his big arms. He’ll release her when he feels her struggling slightly.

He’ll move onto kissing and nipping at her neck, one of his hands will be squeezing her ass. He’ll leave a trail of kisses down and lightly push one of her breasts up with his hand to meet his mouth. Her nipple will have softened at this point and he would lap at it with his tongue until it hardens again. Once it becomes firm, he will wrap his lips around her and suckle her, tenderly working his jaw against her flesh; his mouth making soft wet sounds. She’ll have one hand on the back of his neck as she whimpers and grind her pussy against his bulge.

He’ll release her to sit back and enjoy watching her hump against him. He’ll bring both hands to her breasts and very gently roll each nipple between his thumb and index finger. She’ll mewl and arch her back, pressing her tits harder against his hands.

“Look at you,” he will say, salaciously, “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

He’ll look down at her wet pussy leaving stains on the crotch of his pants. She’ll go still and notice what she has done. She’ll look away, blushing deeply.

His hands will move to her ass. “Undo my pants,” he’ll order.

Her hands will be unsteady as she unbuckle his belt and pull it free. The metal clinking on the buckle will excite him. Next, she will unfasten the button and slowly unzip the fly. She’ll part the opening of his pants, but go no further.

“Take it out.”

He’ll swallow thickly as she gingerly fumbles with his underwear. Reaching in, she will lightly grip onto his erection and pull it free. It will be heavy in her hand and her eyes will widen at his size.

“Now put it in.”

He’ll be able to hear her audibly gulp, her expression growing fearful.

“Let- let me…” she’ll stutter, the first words she will have said this entire time; her voice sounding small. “Let me just use my hands…or my mouth…” She’ll stroke him hesitantly a few times.

He’ll gently clutch onto her wrist, stopping her movements; his other hand will knead her thigh in an attempt to calm her.

“It’s okay; don’t be scared,” he’ll say to her, his voice soft and reassuring. “Put it in.”

She’ll take a shaky breath and sit up, shifting until her cunt is hovering over his cock. Holding his large appendage steady with one hand, she will slowly lower herself until the tip is pressed against her entrance. He imagines this will be something she isn’t used to.

She’ll try to sit down on him, but she’ll gasp and sit back up when part of the head enters and she panics.

“Try again.”

She’ll bite her lips as she lowers herself again. She’ll rub the tip of his cock against her slit until it catches at her hole. She’ll press down until the head slide in and she’ll let out a little cry at the intrusion. Taking a deep breath, she’ll keep descending but stop when another inch slips in. She’ll still have a long way to go.

“Go on,” he will encourage.

“It’s…” she’ll whine, “It’s very tight…”

“You can do it; keep goin’.”

“You’re very big…”

“You’re almost there, Casey.” His voice will be patient.

She’ll wiggle her hips and bear down, sinking slowly, so very slowly; squirming and whimpering as she goes. Finally, she’ll take all of him in and sit onto his pelvis. She’ll hiss between her teeth and breathe heavily; almost hyperventilating.

“Good girl,” he’ll praise, his voice would be thick as he tries to hold still and not furiously jerk into her. “You’re such good girl.”

She’ll be so tight around him; she’ll practically strangle his cock. This will be everything he has ever wanted in his entire life. Nothing will ever feel as good as Casey’s sweet cunt wrapped around his throbbing cock. It doesn’t matter if he will be struck down immediately after this; it doesn’t matter if he will cease to exist. He would have had everything he has ever wanted, ever needed, in her. For a brief moment, he will find happiness and peace. It’ll almost be enough to make him cry. Almost.

He’ll place a hand on the back of her neck and pull her down for another desperate kiss. He’ll moan into her mouth as he rolls his hips and she’ll grunt, furrowing her brow in discomfort. He’ll massage her thighs and back to soothe her. He’ll gently nip on her bottom lip before leaning back and looking down to appreciate how their bodies are connected. Her lower lips will be wrapped around him so deliciously, but her clit would have hidden itself back in its hood because of her struggle to get him inside of her. He’ll be able to feel her tunnel twitching from the exertion of being stretched.

He’ll finger her clit with his thumb; leisurely rubbing up and down on the hood. He’ll sigh, enjoying the view and the feeling of her incredibly tight cunt. He’ll draw that pearl out of its hood and smile, feeling her warm juices coating his cock.

“That feel good?” he’ll ask.

She’ll swallow and nod, biting her lips.

“Good.”

He’ll keep playing with her clit until the slight pain in her pussy is replaced by a different kind of ache. She’ll start to move on her own, first just grinding against his finger, until finally riding him fully.

“That’s it, keep goin’, just like that,” he’ll rasp.

His hands will move to her hips, steadying her and controlling the rhythm. She would have started out gripping onto his shoulders for support, but eventually she will lean forward to wrap her arms around him. She’ll bury her face into his neck, making desperately needy sounds that can resemble sobbing. He’ll make her fuck him harder; lifting and lowering her faster and faster. Their flesh colliding against each other will loudly echo across the room. Her cunt will be so wet that he’ll be able to feel it leak over his balls.

A few more unforgiving thrusts and she will curl her back, pressing herself firmer against him. She’ll come so hard that she would weep against his neck; her entire body will shake. He’ll gasp when he feels her walls clamp down on him. He’ll join her very quickly and he’ll let out a cry that will almost sound helpless. She’ll let out a tiny yelp when she feels him release inside of her. It won’t be an exclamation of disgust or anger, just one of surprise. He’ll continue a staccato of hard trusts, milking himself into her as much as possible and releasing a stream of fluid with every thrust. She’ll gasp softly each time he plunges into her, feeling his seed splatter against her walls and making everything sound wetter.

He will slow and hold her close, feeling spent and gratified; his breathing will begin to even out. He’ll lethargically rub her back and, of course, her ass as well. He’ll lay lazy kisses across her shoulder and when she begins to sit away from him, she’ll let him idly kiss her neck and chest.

He’ll lean back and study her. Her face will be damp with sweat and tears but looking even more beautiful after being so thoroughly fucked. His cock will begin to soften inside her even as he feels her tunnel buzzing in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her lips will be swollen from their kisses; her neck and chest full of hickies. Her hips will have the red imprints of his hands. She’ll look stunning and she’ll smile at him. She’ll smile the sweetest smile he has ever seen in his life. No one has ever smiled at him like that before, but she will and-

Dennis inhales sharply as he feels himself come into his hand. He opens his eyes and looks down; his cock is in his fist covered in his own sticky emission. Casey is still locked away in her room, safe and sound, and her hoodie lies next to him. A flood of shame and guilt engulfs him, making it harder for him to breathe. He pulls his hand away from his member as if it burns and fumbles around his nightstand for some tissues. He cleans himself as best he could before he tucks himself back into his pants and stands. He carefully picks up Casey’s hoodie with the hand that didn’t touch himself and drapes it on top of a chair; then he turns and glares at his bedding. In a frenzy, he rips the sheets off of his bed and bundles it into his arms along with his blanket. He pulls off the pillow cases too. He stomps off in the direction of his laundry room.

After he loads the washer with his bedding he will make his way to the bathroom, feeling a mounting sense of panic at how dirty he has gotten and the irrational desire to peel all of the skin off of his body and burn all of his clothes. He spends close to two hours in the shower, scrubbing furiously, washing and rewashing, scouring down his new bar of soap to almost nothing, scrubbing with a brush that is too harsh for human skin until he’s red and raw and full of angry welts; only then can he push this overwhelming feeling of dread and despair down. Only then does he feel some semblance of clean.

* * *

Hours later, Casey is asleep on her cot with Dennis quietly standing over her. He’s wearing Hedwig’s clothing because Hedwig wanted to go visit her, but then Hedwig was about to jump onto Casey’s cot and Dennis had to stop him. Dennis tells him that it would be rude to disturb someone that is sleeping, and they should just wait until she wakes up on her own. Hedwig reluctantly agrees, but then gets bored and goes back to his chair. Now Dennis is left alone with her.

His eyes roam down her sleeping form and he’s filled with this longing to just reach out and touch her. It doesn’t have to end with their clothes off, although that would be great, he just wants to feel her. He inches closer to her and very carefully crawl into her cot, lying behind her. He wraps one arm around her torso and he tucks his other arm under his head. He gingerly nuzzles against her hair that is still slightly damn from an earlier shower. He closes his eyes and sighs. Just a few minutes. He’ll stay here just a few minutes. He promises to himself that he’ll leave when she wakes and let Hedwig back into the light. For now, he’ll just enjoy a stolen moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice that Casey might be a bit out of character, it’s because this is Dennis’ fantasy. He doesn’t actually know her, and this is how he imagines she would act. Same logic goes for why her underwear is different from the movie and why she doesn’t have any scars. He doesn’t know what underwear she is wearing and he doesn’t know about her scars yet.
> 
> Thanks for reading, please do comment and let me know what you think! And thanks to [TrickerHidds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterHidds/) for beta reading this work!


	2. Say You’re Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has very slight simulated dub-con elements.

Dennis is very upset. Patricia tells him that Casey has struck Hedwig and then used Dennis’ walkie-talkie to betray them. Fortunately, the man on the other line is a complete idiot with no concept of ethics whatsoever and he wouldn’t bother to call the authorities. He wouldn’t even bother to ask his shift supervisor about it because his supervisor would tell him to call the police, regardless if it is a prank. After all, there will always be a possibility that it isn’t and it is always better to be safe than sorry. They’re all lucky the man is stupid beyond belief and Dennis feels slightly less irritated and a bit more grateful that the guy has yet to be fired.

Patricia has told Dennis to go prepare Casey for the Beast’s arrival and Dennis is putting it off. He’s anxiously pacing his room, feeling a myriad of emotions. He’s angry that she almost ruined everything. He’s sad that she tried to betray them. He’s been trying to find a way to spare Casey. At first, he had Hedwig’s full support, but now he doesn’t. Patricia had previously been a bit fond of Casey as well, and he almost convinced Patricia to let him keep her alive, but now Patricia no longer feels anything for her. Everything has been thrown out the fucken window.

Dennis sits heavily in his bed and hangs his head; his forearms are resting on his thighs. He clenches his hands into fists before he suddenly relaxes. Maybe…maybe he can still convince them. Casey is still a good girl, he’s sure of it. She just made a silly mistake. She was misguided. Probably her two former roommates had a negative influence on her. Casey can still be spared; she can still stay with him. She just needs to learn from her mistake, that’s all; that’s simple enough to do. He just needs to correct her. Just a little. Just so she knows what she did was wrong and to never do it again. He doesn’t need to go far with her correction; after all, she’s a good girl at heart. He’s sure the others will forgive her when she properly apologizes. He can still convince them that Casey is decent.

He imagines he’ll go into her room. She’ll be sitting on her cot; looking nervous and regretful. She won’t be able to look into his eyes; she’ll stare at his feet and her hands will fidget in her lap.

He’ll cross his arms and sigh, “You were such a good girl, but now you’ve disappointed me.”

She’ll seem to curl into herself a bit more at his words.

“Stand up,” he’ll demand.

She’ll dutifully stand, but slowly.

“Come with me,” he’ll order as he turns his back to her and walk out of the room.

She’ll follow closely; she won’t drag her heels. She’ll be worried that he’s angry with her. He’ll lead her to his bedroom and make her stand next to his bed.

“Do you understand what you did?” he’ll sternly ask, his arms still crossed. “You misbehaved. You’ve been bad.”

Casey will flinch slightly and look remorseful.

Dennis will sit on the edge of his bed and take his shoes and socks off. He’ll stuff his socks into his shoes and place it off to the side; then he’ll bring his legs up the bed. He’ll sit in the middle with his back against the headboard.

“Come here,” he’ll say as he gestures for her to come towards him. “Lay face down with your stomach on my lap.”

Casey will take a step forward. Dennis will quickly add, “Take off your shoes first. Don’t get your shoes on my bed.”

She’ll sit on the edge of his bed to take her shoes and socks off; then she’ll place them next to his. She’ll straightforwardly crawl to him; not in a sexual manner and not in any way to tease him. He’ll be hard already and the outline of his erection will be on display through his tight pants. She’ll notice it, of course she would, but she won’t acknowledge it. She’ll lay her abdomen down across his lap and she’ll cross her forearms on the mattress, laying her head on them. Her feet will dangle off the side of the bed.

Dennis will eye her first, enjoying how she’ll look as she’s sprawl on his lap. He’ll place his hand on her ass, grabbing a fistful of flesh; squeezing just shy of painful. He’ll release and then rub the area.

“This is,” he’ll try to find the right words, “for your own good. What you did…Casey, you need to understand that what you did was a very bad thing to do.”

He’ll pull her leggings and underwear down to her mid thighs, causing her exposed ass to jiggle. Her skin will prickle into goosebumps and his cock will twitch at the sight. He’ll massage her bare ass at first, kneading at each cheek. When he feels her relax against him, he’ll give a light swat to her rear. She’ll jump, but otherwise won’t be very affected. He’ll lay a series of gentle smacks to her ass before he gives her a harder slap. She’ll flinch, but won’t struggle. He’ll continue with his alternation of light and slightly harder slaps until her ass turns pink. With her cheeks all warmed up, he’ll start laying harder and harsher blows. Every slap across her ass will make her flesh ripple. She’ll soon start to squirm and flinch, grasping the blanket into her fists and whimpering, but he’ll keep on spanking her. She’ll start to yelp a little louder and he’ll alternate between rubbing and soothing her skin to suddenly delivering her an unforgiving smack. He won’t stop until her ass is deep red and she starts to cry. He’ll gently caress her cheeks for a few minutes as she trembles on his thighs before completely pulling her leggings and underwear off of her legs.

He’ll give her ass a tiny little pat and say, “Sit up.”

She’ll rise to her knees and sniffle, wiping her face with her sleeve. He’ll grimace slightly at that, but he’ll hide it quickly. He’ll reach out to the hem of her shirt and tug it up over her head. She’ll raise her arms to allow him to remove it. He’ll immediately unhook her bra right after. He’ll take a few seconds to admire her breasts before he stands, taking her clothes with him. He’ll dump them onto a chair, feeling compelled to organize them neatly, but feeling too eager to continue with Casey to bother.

He’ll turn back to her and demand, “Get on your hands and knees.”

She’ll do it without hesitation, slightly fearing that getting him annoyed would earn her another spanking.

“Now lower your head to the mattress,” he continues. “There we go – head down; ass up. Spread your legs a little more. That’s good.”

Dennis will grope his bulge through his pants seeing her so obedient. He’ll walk to the end of the bed, where the lower part of her body is positioned. He’ll stare at her and his chest will heave. He’ll be able to see everything. Her bruised cheeks will be spread, exposing the little puckered rim; her lips will be unfurled, her entrance slightly opened and so inviting.

“I want you to play with yourself,” Dennis will say, his voice thick with unrestrained desire.

Casey will reach between her legs and rub at her clit. She’ll tease herself slowly and softly. When she starts to get into it, she’ll spread her lips apart with her index and ring finger; rubbing the sensitive bud with her middle finger. Dennis will groan when he sees her do that. Her folds will begin to glisten as she fondles herself more frantically. She’ll start to snake two fingers near her hole but Dennis will stop her.

“Not there,” he’ll say. “That’s for me.”

Casey will pause; then she will go back to stroking her folds, smearing her juices around. Her opening will twitch in yearning, as if beckoning Dennis to shove his cock in there. He’ll clench his jaw and begin to quickly undress. He’ll end up dumping his clothes on the chair on top of hers, too impatient to fix the mess.

He’ll kneel onto the bed and walk with his knees towards her rear. He’ll gently bat her hand away from her slit. She’ll place her arms near her head and wait. He’ll look at her and feel this craving to dip his tongue into her folds, but no. He’s supposed to be correcting her and that might unintentionally make her think what she did was okay. No, he doesn’t think she’ll deserve something that nice just yet. She’ll need to learn her lesson first.

He’ll stroke his cock a few times before he aims it at her opening. With a swift snap of his hips, he will penetrate her to the hilt. She’ll shriek and lurch forward, not necessarily from pain, but from the shock of being taken so suddenly. Dennis will grab her hips and promptly yank her back until she’s flushed against him. This time, she will cry out in pain because her bruised ass would be pressed uncomfortably against him.

Dennis will go still and curse, reveling in her tunnel wrapped so tightly around him. He’ll lick his bottom lip as he watches himself pull out of her. His cock will be coated in her slippery fluids and a little bit of her pink wall will be dragged out with him, as if her body doesn’t want to let him go. He’ll sigh as he’ll push back in; her cunt will greedily swallow him whole. He’ll go agonizingly slow at first, feeling her grow wetter and wetter; her moans growing louder.

He’ll grip onto her hips as he picks up speed, pulling her back and pushing her forward to match his thrusts. Soon, he’ll begin to slap his pelvis against her sore ass. She’ll yelp each time he collides against her. After a few broad strokes, he’ll slam into her harshly and she’ll cry out between clenched teeth as she grips his blankets into her fists once more. His thrusts will become shallow, keeping most of his cock inside her as he drives into her. She’ll squirm, but he’ll tighten his grip on her hips to keep her moving to his liking.

He’ll feel her walls twitch and squeeze, tightening around him until she screams with abandonment. He’ll feel a burst of hot juices against his cock and her tunnel clamp down on him mercilessly. He’ll curse again, feeling her come so hard that it actually hurts him. He’ll ram into her as hard as he could, pressing roughly against her aching ass, as he spills his seed, his cock twitching inside of her. He’ll moan as he’ll slowly continue to push in and out; a bit of his seed would get forced out and slowly trickle down her thighs and his balls. He’ll slide all the way inside of her gently and stay there, feeling her convulsing tunnel milk him dry. He won’t pull out of her until his cock is completely soft. He’ll hear a soft wet sound come from her cunt when he finally pulls out of her. She’ll sigh; her body will still be slightly vibrating from her orgasm.

Dennis will lightly massage her ass, soothing her bruised flesh, as he idly watches his fluids slowly seep out of her. He’ll stand to grab the box of tissues from his nightstand. Casey will continue to stay in the position with her head on the mattress because Dennis didn’t tell her she could move yet. He likes that.

He’ll sit down behind her and wipe her off with some tissues; then he’ll wipe himself. After he’s done cleaning both of them up, he’ll pull Casey onto his lap. She’ll hiss and flinch when she’s made to sit, but Dennis will hold onto her tightly to prevent her from moving away. He’ll kiss her face and she’ll let him. He’ll kiss her eyelids, her cheeks and forehead. He’ll slowly rub his hand up and down her arm and she’ll melt against him. He’ll kiss her lips, softly working his tongue against hers.

Pulling away, he’ll say, “Now say you’re sorry.”

Casey will blink and softly reply, “I’m sorry…”

“I forgive you.” After a pause, he will ask, “Are you gonna promise to be my good girl from now on?”

“I’ll be good…” Her voice will sound contrite.

“Okay.” He’ll nod; then he’ll kiss her temple.

He’ll hold her quietly for a few moments and she’ll lean her head against his shoulder.

“You’ll stay with me,” he’ll suddenly declare. “You’ll be mine. How does that sound?”

Casey will be silent for a few seconds before answering, “Okay.”

Dennis’ breath hitches as he comes into his hand once again. He opens his eyes slowly and finds himself alone, his leaking cock in his fist. Unlike last time, he doesn’t feel any guilt or shame. He just feels despondent and lonely and this immense longing go into Casey’s room and just-

“Dennis,” a feminine voice sternly resonates through the room. Dennis jumps.

“Are you quite done?” Patricia’s posh English accent makes her sound even more severe.

Ah. There’s that familiar feeling of shame and guilt. Dennis quickly cleans himself off with some tissues and tucks himself back into his pants; his face is so red, it might as well be purple.

“I’ve told you to prepare the girl for the Beast; to explain the meaning of this evening,” Patricia scolds. “Is it done?”

Dennis clears his throat and tugs on his collar with a finger. “Not yet…”

“I see. And _what_ exactly are you waiting for? Time is short. The Beast is coming _tonight;_ His revolution begins _tonight_. We still have a lot to do. Stop… _dawdling_ and do what you’ve been told.”

“…Right.”

Patricia slips away from the light and Dennis stands. He glances at his bed and wants to clean the sheets again. He glances down his body and wants to shower. However, he can feel Patricia’s annoyance still humming in the background and decides he should take care of Casey first. After washing his hands and making sure he at least looks decent, he makes his way to Casey’s room.

He hesitates in front of her door, feeling torn. He feels a slight prodding at the back of his mind from Patricia and clenches his jaw. If it comes down to it, he can shut all of the alters out. He’s done it before, but, for some reason unknown to anyone, Hedwig has developed the power to overrule all of them. Patricia can make Hedwig kick Dennis out of the light and hand it over to her if she feels him trying to shut her out now. He can only stay in the light without Hedwig’s intervention if he shuts everyone out quickly before anyone notices, but he can’t keep everyone out long term; he eventually burns out. If he doesn’t work fast enough, Patricia can feel he’s up to no good and prevent him from closing off the light with Hedwig’s help, if she so chooses. Most of the time, she either allows him some privacy, or she’s not paying attention and doesn’t notice what he’s trying to do, but not this time. No, this time she’s watching him like a hawk. She doesn’t quite trust him around women and, apparently, if Dennis were to try anything with Casey, it can cause Casey to become unfit for the Beast.

Pushing down his frustration and sudden panic of feeling helpless, Dennis enters Casey room. She’s sitting on her cot, but stands when Dennis enters. He stares at her and she stares back. He clears his throat and awkwardly folds his hands in front of his crotch. Almost miming him, Casey wraps her arms around her waist.

“The Beast is a sentient creature who represents the highest form of humans’ evolution,” Dennis recites slowly and mechanically, over pronouncing every word. “He believes the time of ordinary humanity is over…. I hope this makes you feel calm.” He tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

“You will be in the presence of somethin’ greater. I was gonna ask for your last shirt…but…I won't…” He hesitates and looks away for a moment. He really wants to ask for her last shirt. He wants to see her as she really is and not just the version of her he has in his mind. He wants to touch her and forgive her. He doesn’t want to sacrifice Casey to the Beast. He wishes he can keep her.

He clenches his jaw and continues, “Tonight is a sacred night. It's almost over.”

He goes quiet and stares at her again. She stares back.

“ _I don’t wanna give her up, God dammit…_ ” Dennis thinks to himself.

He presses his lips together into a hard frown and leaves the room, rubbing the back of his head on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, every time I think about the dude that Casey got on the radio, I get so pissed. I know it’s all fictional, but I hope in that fictional world, the guy gets axed for negligence. 
> 
> I’m thinking about turning this into a full-fledged story, but I’m not sure if I can make it work. I’m kind of writing this as I go without a plan. My previous Split story ([Purification](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641352/chapters/62247088)) had a solid plan in place before I started writing. I knew exactly what I wanted to happen and how it would end, but for this one, I have absolutely no plan in place and I’ll just end up writing as I go.
> 
> Oh yes, and I have created a fanmix dedicated to Split/Glass. They're just songs that makes me think of certain alters. Please [check it out](https://allthenobodyppl.tumblr.com/post/631276115140493312/splitglass-fanmix).


	3. I Want Her

“Patricia…I’ve been thinkin’…”

“Now is not the time for that, Dennis. You need to go to the train yard and greet the Beast.”

Dennis bristles and sits on chair in front of the kitchen table.

Patricia sighs and, in a false sickly sweet tone, says “What is on your mind, dear?” Her voice is strained and it’s taking all of her efforts to not lose her mind. “ _Stubborn boy,_ ” she scowls to herself.

“It’s about Casey…”

Patricia waits for him to continue, but he doesn’t. In faked patience, she prompts, “What of her?”

“I think we should spare her…” Dennis clenches his hands into fists at his thigh.

Patricia’s face twists incredulously. “ _Spare_ her?”

“I was only supposed to get two girls for the Beast. Casey was a mistake.”

“A little extra for the Beast. I’m sure He will appreciate it and value all of your hard work.”

“No. No, that’s not what I meant. I followed the otha’ two girls for days. I made sure they’re the ones he’d want. But Casey…”

“They’re all the same, Dennis. They’re all impure. She will never reach her potential; she doesn’t really matter.”

“You don’t- you don’t know that-”

Patricia huffs, “We really don’t have time for this. Why are you so keen on sparing her? You’ve been talking about her to me and Hedwig for days. What is this obsession you have with her?”

“I _want_ her,” Dennis says, almost fiercely.

Patricia pauses, surprised; then skeptically sneers, “Does she want _you?_ ”

Dennis doesn’t know how to respond.

She continues, “And what if she wants _nothing_ to do with you, hm? What will you do then? Will you force yourself on her?”

“N-no, I-” Dennis stutters, “That’s not wh- It’s not what I meant, I-I-”

Patricia sighs, “Either she is sacrificed to the Beast now, or she’s sacrificed to the Beast later; after she has broken your heart. The result will always be the same.”

“But-”

“And do not forget, Dennis. She tried to betray us. She struck Hedwig, a _child_. She took advantage of his naivety, and, apparently, _yours_ as well.”

Dennis looks down to the table, furrowing his brows.

“You need to place your trust in the Beast. If that girl happens to be pure, which I doubt, He will know what to do.”

Dennis remains quiet, partially trying to find more excuses, partially wondering if Patricia is right.

“Now go greet Him.”

Dennis sighs through his nose. “Right…”

Dennis picks up his phone and sees he has an email notification. He unlocks his cell and almost drops it.

“I’m on my way.” A message from Dr. Fletcher flashes on the screen.

Dennis scowls as he checks his inbox history and found that someone sent about forty panicked emails to Dr. Fletcher. He’s not sure when they did it, or who, or even how, but enough time has passed that the doctor should be at the zoo by now.

“Those _dissidents,_ ” Patricia hisses.

Dennis quickly responds, “I’ll take care’a it.”

Dennis stands and pockets his phone; then he makes his way towards the employee entrance. By the time he gets there, Dr. Fletcher is already waiting by the gate.

“Hello, Dennis,” she says when she sees him coming towards her. “One of the others emailed me just now; is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Dennis replies stoically.

“Dennis, Kevin is really lucky to have you. You are quite extraordinary. I just don't want you guys to get hurt.” Her voice is rushed and anxious.

Dennis blinks. “You…you think we’re extraordinary?”

“I like you Dennis. May I come in? And can we talk?”

Dennis’ frowns as he thinks about it. He nods and decides to let her in. He leads her through the zoo grounds and into his apartment. As they walk into the kitchen, she implores, “I know you want to tell me something. Why don't you just tell me?”

“We're very similar, you and I,” Dennis says, instead of answering her question. “Both on the outside, lookin’ in.”

He gestures to the kitchen table, “Please, sit. I don't get many visitors. I'll, uh, get you some water.”

As Dennis rummages around his kitchen to get Dr. Fletcher something to eat and drink, he fretfully rambles justifications on why his apartment looks rundown and that they were offered better quarters, but they chose to stay here instead.

Dr. Fletcher gets straight to the point and asks, “Who are you going to meet?”

Dennis places a small plate of fruit salad and a cup of water in front of Dr. Fletcher. He unwraps the cellophane covering the fruit salad and then places a fork next to the plate. He takes a seat across from her.

“I…wanna talk about Kevin…and what his mother did to him…. I remember it all…” He says quietly, instead of answering her question.

“I'm happy you're suddenly so open…”

“Kevin's mother? She had rather malevolent ways of punishin’ a three-year-old.”

“Is that when you arrived in the light?”

“Yeah. The one way to avoid her attention was to keep everythin’ spotless; everythin’ perfect…”

“I know you're coming from good intentions, Dennis, but there are other ways to help Kevin now,” Dr. Fletcher pleads. “I've lost so many patients into the system. I want you to know, Dennis; I will never stop fighting for you. My patients have become my family. They are what I've chosen instead of a more traditional path. I hope you feel you can be truly honest with me.”

Dennis looks down at the table. “I…”

He suddenly feels a sharp pain in his head and Patricia’s voice echoes in his skull, “Send her away.”

He flinches and pinches the bridge of his nose. An alter speaking to another alter who has the light without actually sharing the light to speak through the body’s mouth usually causes a bit of a headache. He clears his throat.

“Dennis?” Dr. Fletcher prompts.

“I…actually wanna be honest with you…” Dennis continues. “You…you protect the broken. When you said that you thought this situation was extraordinary. Maybe you can understand…”

“Understand what?”

“That…we don't represent a mistake…but our potential?” Dennis almost sounds like a kid, begging for validation.

“Of course, I believe that, Dennis.”

“Dennis!” Patricia hisses in his head. “Get rid of her!”

Dennis clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut. His ears are ringing.

“Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow,” Dennis quickly suggests. “In your office.” He rubs and squeezes the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension that is starting to build up.

Dr. Fletcher doesn’t seem convinced. She says, “Yes, we should have a proper session tomorrow. I’m going to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya.”

Dennis stands when Dr. Fletcher stands. She walks over to his kitchen doorway and then pauses. She turns back to him and asks, “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

Dennis would much rather she leaves before Patricia gives him an aneurysm, but it would be rude to kick her out. “No,” he answers, “it's down the hall, near the stairs, on your left.”

Dr. Fletcher nods and turns down the hall.

Dennis can feel Patricia’s restlessness. He calls out to Dr. Fletcher, “How we doin’?”

“I’m okay…” she calls back.

He’s about to sit down when he hears it. Faintly, a young girl whimpers, “Are you real? Who is it? Help me…”

He quickly steps into the hallway to see Dr. Fletcher standing in front of the closet housing the blonde. The door is opened and the blonde is calling out for help. The doctor has her hand to her mouth in shock.

Dennis feels a rush of panic sweep over him. He steels himself as he hears Patricia in his head saying, “And now you can’t let her leave; take care of this!”

He walks over to Dr. Fletcher and closes the door to the closet. She turns to face him, eyes full of terror.

“Listen to me, Dennis,” she begs, tears rolling down her face, “I should've listened better. I should've understood what you're capable of; how powerful you are.”

Dennis frowns, confused. “What?” he says, “No, it’s not- this isn’t my- they’re not for me-”

“Dennis, this is an egregious wrong. These young women are suffering. This is a crime. I can't let you keep them here.” Dr. Fletcher is practically sobbing.

“It’s- They’re for The Beast. The Beast is real; I’ve seen him. This is what he needs.” Dennis desperately tries to explain himself; to make her understand.

“We've got to stop this. This new identity is monstrous!”

Dennis wonders to himself, “ _Does she mean the Beast is monstrous or…me?_ ”

Dennis feels resigned. It doesn’t matter what she thinks, or which alter is monstrous. They all share Kevin’s body and if one alter is considered evil, then the world will see all of them as evil. There’s no more redemption for Dennis, or Patricia, or even Hedwig, or even Barry, or Kevin himself, who has nothing to do with this. It’s too late and it’s gone too far. Even if he stops now, Kevin will be thrown in jail or a psychiatric ward for the criminally insane. Dennis’ priority will always be Kevin, and he cannot let this happen.

“I'm really sad you feel this way,” Dennis says as he presses his yellow handkerchief to his nose and mouth and sprays the doctor in the face with an aerosol can full of tranquilizers.

She immediately buckles and he catches her before she falls to the floor. His face twists in remorse. He quickly pushes the despair down as he locks the closet door, then lifts Dr. Fletcher and carries her to the living room. He gently places her down on the couch, but finds that he couldn’t bear to look at her. He quickly turns and leaves.

Numbly, he makes his way to Casey’s room. He suddenly feels very tired. As he gets closer to her door, he can hear her using something to pick at the lock. He can hear her freezing when his footsteps grow nearer to her, and then he can hear her frantically backing away. He unlocks and opens the door, then steps into the room. He can tell by the look on her face that she has been up to something, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He looks at the aerosol can that’s still in his hand; then depresses the remaining spray into the air.

He looks back to Casey and softly says, “Maybe we _are_ crazy…”

Casey’s eyes widen slightly at his confession.

“Maybe we _should_ all die…” Dennis continues.

His grip relaxes on the emptied aerosol can and it slips from his fingers, falling to the floor.

“I should go;” Dennis sighs, “I’ll be late…”

He steps out of her room, pulling at the door on his way out. He can hear her running behind him and kicking his fallen can towards the doorframe. He knows that she is using the can to prevent the door from closing and locking, but he doesn’t care. He wasn’t going to lock her room anyway, so it really didn’t matter what she’s trying to pull. He does lock the second door, though, but if she’s smart, she can figure out a way to leave. He’s hoping she finds a way. All she has to do is find the extra set of keys in the anteroom. They aren’t hidden particularly well, so he hopes she will find them in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I KNOOOOW. I made Patricia the antagonist. I know I keep complaining that authors make her the antagonist and I keep subtly (or not so subtly) commenting on other writers’ fics and asking Patricia not be made into the baddie, AND YET HERE I AM. I am a hypocrite. A HYPOCRITE. I KNOW. I’m sorry… but we need an antagonist to make things interesting and…well…that responsibility falls into Patricia’s lap for now.
> 
> Also, just wanted to clarify something. Patricia called Dennis a “stubborn boy.” I just want to make it clear that Dennis is definitely a man and not a boy, but Patricia thought he was acting childish. She’s also older than him.
> 
> I plan on changing the story title and description soon because this has evolved into a full fledged story with an actual plot, so it's become more than just Dennis' proclivity. 
> 
> As always, thanks to TricksterHidds for taking the time out of her busy schedule to help me beta-read this work!


	4. Small Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just changed the title and summary of this fanfic to better suit future chapters. The song "Burn" by The Cure inspired the title change, which is a part of the fanmix I made for Split/Glass too! (You can check that out [here](https://allthenobodyppl.tumblr.com/post/631276115140493312) if you'd like).

After the Beast escapes the Philadelphia Zoo, he brings them to an abandoned house, and then gives the light to Dennis. Dennis finds a mirror in what might have been a bedroom, but he’s not sure since there isn’t an actual bed in there.

“It didn’t go through?” Dennis’s incredulous voice echoes across the dusty room as he stands in front of a dirty mirror, surveying the body’s bullet wound injuries.

“We are what we believe we are,” Patricia says, her voice in complete awe and devotion of the Beast.

“Holy shit!” Hedwig squeals, “This is so cool!”

“Language, Hedwig,” Patricia scolds.

A little sheepish, Hedwig continues, “They’re gonna believe we exist now, right?”

“They are going to have to,” Patricia answers, nose in the air and acting smug.

“So what do we do now?” Hedwig is practically jumping in his excitement.

Patricia replies, “We trust in Him; He'll protect us. Look at what He can do. Let Him show the world how powerful we can be.”

Dennis continues to quietly investigate at their injury. They aren’t deep, but it’s still an open wound that is bleeding freely.

“We still got shot,” Dennis says. He continues the rest of that thought in his head, “ _We’re still hurt. The Beast isn’t invincible_.”

“Yes,” Patricia says, “by that girl you’re so fond of.”

“That _bitc-_ ” Hedwig catches himself just in time. “That mean chick.”

“She’s pure,” Dennis states the obvious.

“Yes,” Patricia answers, “and the Beast allowed her to live. Just as you’ve always wanted. I told you He knows what to do.”

“I need to take care’a this.” Dennis prods at the bruised tissue near one of the bullet wounds, causing both Patricia and Hedwig to wince; Hedwig much louder in his displeasure.

“Please do, Dennis. Thank you.” Patricia’s voice is a bit strained.

Hedwig has cowered from the light and says nothing as he hides away from the pain in his chair. Dennis is unsure of how to proceed. They’re in a decrepit house with no electricity and, after doing a thorough search that left him feeling gross at the house’s state of filthiness, there are, understandably, no first aid supplies available. The only thing he has going for him is a very old, but unused, bottle of dish washing detergent and running water. He wants to shower, but the bathtub is grimy and moldy and he would come out of that dirtier than going in. He manages to find a towel in a linen closet and some old discarded clothes here and there in some dusty wardrobes.

“ _It’ll have to do,_ ” Dennis thinks to himself as he prepares what remains of the kitchen for his little makeshift operation. He washes his hands meticulously like a doctor would all the way up to his elbows, then he takes a seat on a wooden chair that he wiped down earlier. The chair feels unsteady beneath his weight. He begins working on digging the buckshot out of his torso with his fingers. All of the other alters have hidden away, leaving Dennis alone to complete the task. He doesn’t mind that, since they can be a distraction.

After spending a long time poking and digging that leaves him looking a pale green, Dennis has managed to extract all of the buckshots. It would have been easier if he had some tools to help him, but all he has, and trusts, are his fingers. Everything that has been left behind in that abandoned house looks like it would give him gangrene.

He takes a thirty second break; then he stands over the sink to prepare for a sponge bath with the towel he found in the linen closet, first by washing the towel and hoping that is enough to not give him an infection. Although, Patricia has told him that the Beast has granted them much better healing abilities, and that the only thing Dennis needs to do is dig the buckshots out so the flesh can heal correctly and close over. Still, he doesn’t want to just leave it like that, and he feels compelled to clean it properly.

As he is soaping himself up and wiping himself down with the wet towel, his mind flashes back to what happened in their apartment. He can’t remember everything; he only has brief flickers of… screaming. Begging. Crying. Snot and spit (not his own). Blood – blood and guts; he remembers how it stained his hands. How it crunched wetly between his teeth. He remembers the metallic, salty, and unexpectedly fishy taste. How revolting it was. He remembers the horror; the gore. He remembers… Dr. Fletcher. How she tried to fight but lost so miserably. How she was held in their arms and squeezed until her bones snapped and organs popped. How she wailed before suddenly going silent.

Dennis loses the grip on the towel and it plops onto the floor. He leans over the sink and gags until he vomits. What comes out looks worse than what went in. The half chewed meat of the girls’ flesh comes out brown and gooey. The blood the Beast drank down comes out coagulated and chunky. The sight and smell of it; the taste of it mixed with his own bile, it all makes it so much worse for him as he continues to vomit until nothing else comes, and yet he still keeps on dry heaving.

He frantically turns the faucet on and tilts his head with his mouth towards the flowing water; rinsing out the half-digested guts. He leans his head against the edge of the sink and moans. As he is wallowing in his misery, he can feel Patricia come towards the light.

“You should rest now, Dennis,” she says. “You’ve done well.”

“Why’d he have to kill Dr. Fletcher?” Dennis blurts out, “I thought we just gonna knock her out and leave her behind. Why’d she have to die? She wasn’t even sacred food. She was never a part of the plan!”

“Calm down; the Beast has His reasons,” Patricia answers, her voice soft and reassuring.

“He just killed her! After everythin’ she’s done for us. She was good to us. It was unnecessary!”

“Sometimes,” she soothes, “there's just no other way.”

Dennis sputters incoherently. Patricia continues, “Go rest now, Dennis. There is a bed in one of the rooms upstairs-”

“I’m not layin’ on that.”

“Dennis-”

“It’s _disgustin’_.” His voice cracks.

Patricia tuts, “I don’t think we have much of a choice in accommodations for the moment.”

Dennis has the strongest urge to just scream wordlessly in the middle of the room, but he keeps it together.

Dennis groans, “Dr. Fletcher-”

“Is gone,” Patricia interrupts. “There is nothing that can be done about it. She’s gone. I’m sorry, Dennis. We can only move forward now. I think I spotted some clean sheets in that linen closet-”

 _“They aren’t **clean**!”_ Dennis yells in his head.

“-and a blanket. Why don’t you prepare the bedding and go rest now? Kevin’s body needs to sleep.”

Dennis pauses. She’s not wrong. He can feel the body desperately wanting to collapse. It has been almost two full days before any of them has gotten any sleep.

“Alright,” he concedes.

“Thank you, Dennis. The Beast is very pleased with everything you have done thus far for His revolution, and He appreciates your continued support and loyalty. I, too, as well.”

Dennis doesn’t say anything as he forces himself to clean the sink of his vomit. He just can’t leave the mess there. He also washes the towel he dropped onto the floor before draping it on the back of a chair to dry. He makes his way upstairs.

He goes to the linen closet and pulls out a sheet and blanket. They’re not, _ugh God_ , they’re not _clean,_ but it’s in better shape than the mattress…that is on the floor. He’s pretty sure homeless squatters or drug addicts used to use this place and sleep on that cesspool of a bed. There’s a questionable stain on the corner of the mattress and he, again, resists the urge to scream wordlessly in the middle of the room. He quickly smooths the sheet in place, but it doesn’t quite do enough to make him want to lie down. He bites his tongue and lies on the bed far away from the stain he knows is just merely hidden away by the sheet. He’s psychologically feeling itchy, but resists the urge to get up or start scratching. He really needs to get some sleep and, despite feeling gross, he can feel the body relaxing.

As his mind begins to quiet, he thinks back to Casey. He’s very glad that she’s made it out of there alive. It’s a small comfort. He remembers bits and pieces of what happened with her. He remembers chasing her down the tunnel and smashing the overhead lights. He remembers being able to see her perfectly in the dark as her eyes dart around trying to spot him; frantically waving the shotgun to every sound she perceives. He remembers getting shot, but not feeling the impact because he wasn’t the one in control. He remembers tackling Casey to the floor. He remembers holding her down as he tears her shirt into shreds and she screams and writhes underneath him…

Dennis clears his throat and shifts as he feels his pants tightening. He keeps playing that image in his head – Casey screaming and crying as he pushes her down and rips her clothes off of her. He can’t help but find it hot. He knows he will never hurt her, nor does he even want to hurt her, but he just can’t help himself and is becoming aroused. He wants to jerk off, but his surroundings are just…too filthy…and he doesn’t have a washing machine to clean the sheets, or his clothes, and the shower is too revolting use.

Irritated, he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes and tries to push the sexual frustration down as he attempts to sleep with an image of a more peaceful Casey flowing through his mind.

* * *

A number of hours later, Dennis is slowly awakened from his sleep. He feels a weight on him, and soft groping against his crotch. He snaps awake and reacts before seeing, or even thinking. His hand darts out and grabs onto the throat of whoever is on top of him. He squeezes down at their neck before he recognizes those huge wide-set eyes staring at him fearfully. He immediately lets her go.

“Casey?” Dennis says, blinking in surprise.

Casey smiles down at him as she rubs her hand up and down his chest and slightly grinds her crotch against his. Dennis’ breath stutters as he wraps his arms around her waist.

“What you doin’ here?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer him as she leans forward and presses her lips against his. He moans and pulls her tighter against him. He tries to deepen the kiss and she eagerly lets him-

“Whoa! The bullet holes are almost all gone! Holy shit! It’s only been a day!” a childish voice yells excitedly.

Dennis starts and opens his eyes. He finds himself in his chair with Hedwig in the light. Dennis was dreaming of Casey. He groans as he swipes his hand down his face; then he stands and goes nearer to the light. He can see that Hedwig is admiring himself in the mirror.

“What you up to, kiddo?” Dennis asks.

“Mr. Dennis!” Hedwig happily shouts. “Check this out!” He points at the bullet wound on his upper chest; near his shoulder. The gunshot wound is almost completely closed and the skin around it is red and bruised. The one on his abdomen is also almost fully healed.

“Huh,” Dennis remarks as he inspects the various injuries in the mirror. Hedwig is not wearing Dennis’ glasses so he has to squint in order to see. Although… Dennis feels that he’s seeing a bit better, despite not wearing his glasses. He wonders if the Beast might have something to do with that, or if it’s just psychosomatic.

“The Beast is really somethin’, huh?” Hedwig says, “It doesn’t even hurt anymore!”

Hedwig is about to poke at the gunshot wound but Dennis stops him.

“Don’t touch any wounds with dirty hands; it’s still healin’,” Dennis gently says.

“Sorry, Mr. Dennis,” Hedwig sheepishly replies.

After a pause, Hedwig continues, “The Beast is so cool! Now, no one will make fun of us again! Miss Patricia? I heard her talkin’ to the Beast. He told her that he wants ten to twelve ‘unworthy young’ next time.”

Dennis’ heart almost jumps out of his ribcage. _“How the fuck am I supposed to get that many?!”_ He thinks hysterically to himself. Out loud, he says, “You shouldn’t eavesdrop, kiddo. That’s impolite.”

“Do you think that we should feed Casey to the Beast?” Hedwig asks, his voice not necessarily holding animosity; he just sounds curious.

“No!” Dennis answers, a bit too quick and loud. Hedwig jumps.

Dennis coughs and continues, his voice calmer, “No, she’s pure, remember? The Beast let her go on purpose. She’s, uh, she’s a good girl.” He cringes at his choice in words, remembering one of his fantasies involving her.

“She’s not _good,_ ” Hedwig scoffs, “She’s _mean_.”

“Now, why would you say that?”

“She bitch-slapped me!” Hedwig whines

Dennis’ lips twitches in amusement. It’s one of those things where a very young kid cursing is pretty funny because they don’t quite know what they are saying.

“She was scared,” Dennis softly replies. “Don’t let Miss Patricia hear you talk like that.”

Hedwig hums in agreement to Dennis’ request. He thinks Dennis is cool because Dennis lets him curse like a grownup and doesn’t tattle to Miss Patricia who wants him to mind his manners.

“Still,” Hedwig grumbles, “Casey lied and she tricked me. And she slapped me; it hurt! I didn’t cry though. Cryin’ is for pussies. Actually, it didn’t hurt that much either. She hits like a girl.”

Dennis knows that Hedwig is lying and that it did hurt and he did, indeed, cry. It wouldn’t have hurt Dennis whatsoever, but Hedwig is a kid and that slap did a number on him. Dennis doesn’t mention it though, and allows Hedwig to keep his dignity.

“When people are very scared,” Dennis explains, “they become desperate. We were gonna feed her to the Beast. She thought she was gonna die. Wouldn’t you fight if you thought you were gonna die?”

Hedwig thinks about it for a moment before conceding, “I guess…”

“You’d try to run away too, right?”

“Yeah…” Hedwig hangs his head. A pause, and then he continues, “But… we’re the good guys…right? We just made a mistake with Casey, right? Those otha’ two girls, they were impure. They deserved it, right?”

Dennis doesn’t answer him. Instead, he asks, “Are ya hungry, kiddo?”

“Yeah!” Hedwig doesn’t notice the abrupt change in subject.

“Me too. Let’s go find something to eat.”

“Okay!” Hedwig hands the light over to Dennis and Dennis takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do let me know what you think!


	5. Casey Is No Fool

Casey is settling into her new foster home. The investigation against her uncle is still ongoing, but she’s been taken out of his home and placed in foster care. She was in a group home at first, but she was quickly picked up by her foster parents about a week later. She’s glad to be out of her uncle’s place, but she’s weary and tired and untrusting of her new caretakers. Casey isn’t a fool, she knows that a lot of kids who get placed in the system end up in worse conditions. But, for the time being, her foster parents seem nice enough and her much younger foster siblings seem to be happy in their household.

She has been given the guest room in the attic. There’s a second room across from hers that is used for storage so she doesn’t get the entire attic. Not that it bothers her, she’s glad for the privacy she will have since she’s the only one consistently using that floor.

“There’s no bathroom in the attic, so just be careful going down the stairs if you need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night,” her foster mother says as Casey cautiously sits on the bed with her duffel bag on her lap. “Maybe use a flashlight. We were going to install some lights on the steps, but never got around to it because this room has been empty for the longest time. Here you go.” She hands Casey an old Maglite. It used to be the brightest light you can get, but the smaller LED flashlights have made it obsolete and it’s dim in comparison. It’s heavy though, and can be used as a weapon. Casey doesn’t know if she meant to give her something that can be used as a weapon, but she’s grateful to have it anyway.

“Thanks, Jennifer,” Casey responds.

“Also, there’s a lock on your door,” Jennifer continues, “If you feel safer locking your room, if you need some privacy, or if you just want to lock it, you can. We trust you, of course. Just, uh, you know, use your common sense.”

Casey glances at the door knob. It’s a flimsy lock that can be easily picked with a screw driver or easily kicked in if anyone really wants in, but she’s still glad for the somewhat false sense of security.

“We just prepared your room,” Jennifer says as Casey looks around. “We didn’t really know how you like it, so how about we go shopping? You can pick out some décor; make this place more ‘you.’”

Casey is seventeen and assumes she would be leaving once she turns eighteen. She really doesn’t think there is a need to personalize the place.

“O-oh, thank you…” Casey stammers, “but, that’s okay…I don’t really…”

“Well, this is your new home now. It’ll be fun; we can get to know each other. We can get you some new clothes, too. If you’d like.”

Casey wants to decline, but Jennifer seems eager to take her out. This is the first time Casey isn’t living with a constant dread in the pit of her stomach and her foster family live in a very nice house. She didn’t want to push away her foster mother so quickly and get on her bad side, with the potential of being stuffed back into the system, so she agrees.

“Okay, but not yet,” Casey replies. “Things have been crazy. Also my uncle and the investigation… and the guy that kidnapped us is still out there…”

She’s purposefully using her traumatic history to delay any sort of socializing. Usually, decent people will immediately give her space if she starts talking about her ordeal. Before, she would hide everything away, but her face has been plastered all over the news and her story has been released by reporters and journalists alike. Pretty much everyone knows what she’s been through. Well, at least every person living in Philadelphia. She’s not sure if her story went nationwide. She’s lucky she’s underage because she can’t be hounded for an interview and her location has to be kept private. Since everyone knows what her deal is, she might as well use it to her advantage.

“Right, right, of course!” Jennifer splutters. “You take all the time you need.”

After an awkward pause, Jennifer continues, “Why don’t you settle in? Liv and I will be downstairs with the kids. Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”

With that, Jennifer smiles and leaves the room.

Casey watches Jennifer’s form disappear down the stairs before she drops her duffel to the floor and plants her Maglite on the nightstand. She stands and takes in her surroundings. Her room faces the backyard. A desk sits under a large window that lets in some natural light. An old chair is tucked into the desk. She has two nightstands, one on each side of her full sized bed in the middle of the room. Each nightstand and the desk have a lamp. An alarm clock also sits on one of the nightstands. There’s a wardrobe next to one side of the door, the other side has a dresser. Across from the foot of her bed is a vanity sitting against the wall, complete with a mirror and a pale pink cushioned stool. The sheets on her bed are also pale pink. A dark green arm chair sits in a corner, facing the bed; a floor lamp stands next to it. All of the wooden furniture in her room is varying shades of light blond.

Casey notices something sitting on top of the desk. She walks over and finds a smartphone, a charger, and a pair of ear buds. A sticky note with a phone number and a smiley face has been slapped next to the cell. Casey starts messing with the phone and finds two numbers already saved in there with the names of her foster mothers. The number with the landline is also saved there under the name “Home.”

She turns and finds the resident house cat has made himself comfortable on her bed. She walks over and plops next to the cat with the phone and gets lost in it for a while.

* * *

Casey wakes some time later to a pitch dark room; the cat is nowhere to be seen. She must have fallen asleep while messing with her new phone. Her foster family must have decided to let her sleep instead of wake her for dinner; it feels very quiet and late.

She rolls onto her side, intent on just going back to sleep, but then she sees a large, dark figure sitting on the arm chair. Casey immediately jerks upright, flicks on a lamp, and grabs the Maglite. She’s holding the flashlight with both hands as she snaps back to face the intruder. A buff man wearing dark clothing that is a bit too tight sits on the armchair with his legs spread and arms crossed. Dark framed glasses adorn his severe expression.

“Dennis?” Casey utters in disbelief.

Dennis sighs softly as he stares at Casey. He takes note of the flash light and he smirks slightly in amusement. He stands and walks towards her. She remains frozen sitting on her bed; her eyes following his movements while still holding onto the flash light like it was a baseball bat. He stops in front of her and slowly reaches for the Maglite. He wraps his hand around it and gently takes it from her; then he places it on the nightstand. He takes a seat on the bed with her.

He takes her hand and holds it firmly; then he pulls her towards him. He pulls until he has her wrapped around his big arms-

Casey starts violently when she suddenly feels someone jump onto her bed. She sees the cat fleeing out the door and down the stairs. She darts her eyes around the room and a boy around the age of 8 is bouncing on her bed. “You’re our new sister, Casey, right?”

“Uh…” Casey responds a bit groggily, “I guess I am.”

Dennis is not there. She must have been dreaming.

“I’m Billy! Maddy said to tell you dinner is ready.”

“Maddy?” Casey could have sworn the other kid’s name is Sarah.

“Yeah, our other mom.”

“I thought her name’s Liv?”

Billy makes one big leap and lands on the floor. “Well, duh. Maddy like daddy but mom.”

“Oh…right. I’ll be down in a minute.”

With that, Billy runs down the stairs like the house is on fire.

Casey takes a deep breath and tries to slow her racing heart. She takes a few moments to calm down before she stands and stretches, placing her phone on the nightstand. She kicks her duffel under the bed, not bothering to unpack. Just in case she needs to make a run for it, her bag would already be ready. She’s not itching to run away, because she hasn’t been in such nice living arrangements since her father and she hasn’t felt such kindness in a long time, but she is prepared to run if she needs to. As it has already been established, Casey is no fool…except maybe in her dreams. This isn’t the first time she has dreamed of Dennis; she doubt it will be the last. She doesn’t want to dwell on why she’s dreaming of him; she doesn’t even want to admit to herself that she dreams of him.

She rubs her eyes, then walks down the stairs and makes her way to the kitchen.

“Hey! There you are!” Jennifer exclaims as she is in the middle of stir frying something. “Dinner is just about done. Why don’t you help the kids set the table? Kids, show Casey where the plates are!”

The fraternal twins come barreling into the kitchen and drags Casey out by her hands. Both of them very excited to have a new person they can entertain. The kids go into very specific details about doing things the right way, speaking over each other and arguing about who’s doing a better job. Casey is amused as the twins explain the delicate art of table setting. They are still at the age where they think everything is cool and they didn’t reach the age where everything is uncool yet.

“ _Give it another year or two and they should be rolling their eyes at everything in sight_ ,” Casey, amused, thinks to herself.

Jennifer and Liv bring the food to the table and everyone begins to eat after the mothers scoop the food into the twins’ plates; then passing the dishes around the adults to help themselves.

After a few moments of eating, Casey says, “Thank you for the phone.”

“Oh, don’t mention it;” Liv laughs, “we can’t leave you in the dark ages.”

Casey smiles awkwardly and then eats quietly, glad that the twins take up much of the conversation and almost all of the attention of their mothers. Her mind drifts back to her dream.

* * *

A few days pass and Casey has to go back to school at Jennifer’s gentle insistence. Casey can tell that Jennifer is the mom-mom and Liv is a bit more of the cool-mom. Liv would have been happy to allow Casey to finish the rest of her classes at home, but Jennifer insists a return to normalcy would be good for Casey’s mental health. Casey isn’t sure she would agree, but she goes to school anyway. She is in the beginning of her senior year.

“Alrighty, sweetie,” Liv says as she steers her car towards her old school. “You sure you’re good to take the bus home? You can do some after school activities like the kids, or just stay in the building until Jen and I are out of work and we’ll swing by to pick you up.”

“I’m fine, thank you; I can take the bus.”

“Well, alright. You got your keys with you; your phone? Some money for the bus fare?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay, help yourself to whatever food or snack is around the house if you get hungry after school. We’ll be back around 6-ish with pizza.”

With faked enthusiasm, Casey says, “That sounds great.” Liv pulls up in front of Casey’s high school.

“See ya later!” Liv smiles and waves as Casey steps out of the car and slings her backpack over one shoulder. Casey waves back before turning towards the school.

She walks up the stairs, and, all in all, nothing has changed much. Classmates always whispered about her then, and they continue to whisper about her now. The only difference is now they have a different topic to whisper about. This doesn’t really bother her as long as they don’t mess with her. All things considered, no one does, and she’s left alone to her own devices.

She walks to her locker and works the combination, getting her stuff ready for her first few classes.

* * *

A week has gone by uneventfully, although her teachers have a newfound understanding of Casey’s past poor behavior and are going easy on her. Casey is also not acting out anymore because she’s, for the most part, in a better place, much to the appreciation of her teachers.

Now it’s Friday night. The twins insist on a family board game night and Casey didn’t want to say no. She hasn’t played any board games before, so they allow her to choose one out of the bunch they already have. She picks Monopoly mainly because she thought the game pieces are cute, not knowing what the game is really about besides something to do with money. Jennifer slightly cringes at her choice but hides it quickly with an enthusiastic smile. Casey finds out why later on, when Liv “accidentally” pushes the board game to the floor and declares a stalemate between all players.

After the game of Monopoly has ended, Casey really wants to call it a night as her introversion demands she needs some time alone, but Liv asks her to choose another game because “The night is still young!” despite the fact that the kids already fell asleep on the couch halfway through their first game.

Casey spots the creepiest “game” in the bunch and points to it; hoping it would end the game night. Jennifer immediately chickens out.

“Oh no, not that one! That’s not even a game! I don’t know why you have this, Liv,” Jennifer scolds.

“What? It’s a part of my college days!” Liv laughs. “I had a little witchy phase; I couldn’t chuck this one, lots of memories with my old coven.”

Liv pulls out the box that has “Ouija” slapped on the cover. “How about we do a little conjuring of the spirit realm, huh?” she gently nudges Casey in the arm.

“Forget it,” Jennifer scoffs, “the last thing we need is to summon something that will haunt this house. I’ve watched enough horror movies to know you don’t mess with that kind of stuff.”

“I still got some protection charms under my belt-”

“A couple of rocks won’t offer any protection.”

“They are _crystals_ , and-”

Casey feels bad she started an argument, but this seems more like a loving couple squabbling than a full-fledged fight.

“I think,” Jennifer finally says, “it’s time to go to bed.”

“Killjoy,” Liv teases as she playfully swats her wife.

“I’m kind of tired too,” Casey says. “We can summon a demon tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Liv claps her hands.

“No,” Jennifer sternly says. “There will be no demon-summoning in this household.”

Casey silently helps her foster mothers clean up the scattered Monopoly pieces from the floor as they continue to lightheartedly bicker. They quiet down when everything is in its place and they carry the two kids to their rooms. Casey follows behind. They whisper a good night to her on the staircase and Casey reciprocates before she continues up to her attic bedroom. She closes the door and flops onto her bed, glad to be able to decompress alone. She relaxes for a few moments before she remembers that she still needs to brush her teeth. She gets up and decides to linger at her window first. As much as she likes her foster mothers, she rather not run into them again, so she’s giving it a few minutes to make sure they’re in bed before she heads downstairs.

She looks out of her window and almost screams. There’s a large dark figure standing in the backyard, looking up at her. She’s about to slowly back away and hopes whoever it is didn’t notice her noticing them before making a run for her phone, but then she recognizes the person that’s creeping on her. He’s wearing a dark hoodie that is slightly too small on him, with the hood drawn over his head. He wears a pair of dark framed glasses and his brows are furrowed; his lips are pressed tightly together. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Dennis…” Casey whispers to herself.

She stares at him and he stares back. Slowly, she raises her hand and waves to him. He seems to straighten in surprise. He doesn’t react for a few seconds, but then he waves back rather awkwardly. Casey wonders if, perhaps, her being not a fool may not be completely true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Jennifer Connelly and Liv Tyler as Casey’s foster mothers.


	6. Stalker

It had been few weeks after the Beast has escaped the Philadelphia Zoo. During that time, it had fallen upon Dennis’ shoulders to find and prepare a place to stay. The derelict house they originally stayed in was not up to par. They would have been unable to properly house any impures there for the Beast, and it was really just a temporary hideout to help get themselves back on their feet. The floor was a bit mushy and Dennis worried about falling through. The walls were thin and any screaming from the impures can be heard easily from outside and the house wasn’t fortified enough to be able to lock someone in. Escape would have been very easy unless Dennis were to keep a constant eye on the sacred food. He would really rather not do that for many reasons. One of which was that he really had better things to do. Another of which was, well, he don’t want to talk about it. He still thought about Casey every time his mind was allowed to wander.

Dennis managed to find an abandoned factory warehouse that was still in pretty good condition, despite being abandoned about a decade ago. It’s fortunate that most of the things he would need had been left behind in the warehouse. There were plenty of tools that he can use to repair or build anything that will be needed. They’ve got running water and a bathroom with a shower, although the water was cold and unheated; the boiler had long since been out of commission.

They have electricity this time, and it seems that someone still paid the bill because the security lights outside of the building ran on a timer. He checked the entire building for security cameras and found none, so he doesn’t have to worry about being recorded by any remote video feeds. The reason might be because this factory used to be run like a sweat shop, which was why it was shut down to begin with, and video evidence of that would be a no-no.

They’ve also got a laundry room too. The washing machine still works, much to Dennis’ appreciation, and he was able to do a load of laundry, which made him pathetically happy. The dryer was broken, however, and he had to air dry his clothes. He strung up clotheslines all around the laundry room to hang the up the laundry.

The building doesn’t have any heat, but fortunately, they have an electric space heater left behind in one of the offices. He tested it out and it still works. Unfortunately, there’s only one space heater and when winter comes, he can either use it for themselves, or give it to the sacred food. Patricia already noted that the sacred food will not need it because the Beast will “take care of them” soon enough.

Dennis managed to sneak his car away before the cops got their hands on it. He switched out his license plate to an old one he found lying around in the warehouse basement and hoped there’s nothing under that plate that would show up if the cops were to scan it. He painted his car to a completely different color and hoped that’s enough to not draw suspicion. He didn’t use the car often, choosing instead to walk everywhere he can. He’s not sure if it’s psychosomatic, but he felt that his stamina increased since the Beast came into existence, as well as his sight getting better, but he still continued to wear his glasses. He’ll only use the car if he needs to go too far to walk, or if he needs to bring back, or get rid of, something too large or heavy to carry by hand. Like bodies. But he hadn’t needed to worry about that just yet.

Not long after settling down in the warehouse, Dennis found a gently used mattress in the nicer part of town, complete with the box spring, wrapped up in plastic out in the street for disposal. He snatched it up and brought it back to the warehouse before the garbage truck came by to take it. He had to quickly tie it to the roof of his car in the middle of the night before garbage day, drive back, and then carry it to one of the old offices, now used as their bedroom.

Dennis had to buy new sheets, a blanket, and pillows for the bed, and he almost had a panic attack while getting it. Fortunately, it seemed that no one recognized him. He would have also liked to purchase a brand new mattress, but that would be too difficult and dangerous to get; not to mention expensive and using their credit card would be about the dumbest thing he could do. He’s not an idiot. They will have to use all cash from now on to prevent the authorities from tracking them and coming down on their ass. He smartly and slowly emptied out their debit account when preparing for the first batch of sacred food back at the zoo. He also smartly left the cash in his car and not in their apartment because that location was and still is on full lock-down after Casey got away. It became too dangerous to even attempt to get back in there for anything they might need. An extra pair of his glasses and some clothing – outfits for Dennis, Patricia, and Hedwig – stuffed in a duffel have also been packed away in Dennis’ car, as well as some of Hedwig’s music, his music player, and fancy headphones (which were a past Christmas gift from Barry).

Now that they have a “lair,” as Hedwig calls it, Dennis is expected to start preparing the factory for the arrival of the sacred food…

* * *

Dennis is bringing chairs into a large room on the second floor. He sets them away from the windows. He has cleaned the area as best he can, but no matter how much cleaning he does, it will always be dirty. Paint is constantly chipping and falling to the floor. Dust appears out of nowhere within the hour. A coating of grime is always covering every surface. He’s given up trying to tidy the entire building because it’s a lost cause, but damn if he didn’t try first. It’s pretty futile, and the only room in the place that is spotless is their bedroom. He rather flay himself alive than to continue sleeping in filth.

Dennis drops a bundle of rope next to each chair, five in total side by side, but he might not grab so many girls at one go. Patricia did specify that the Beast wants ten to twelve unworthy young, but not necessarily all at the same time. It’s up to his discretion on how many girls to get at one go.

“How are we progressing, Dennis?” Patricia asks as she observes Dennis working.

“Fine,” he answers stoically. A pause, and then he says, “Patricia, I worry about money.”

“Money?”

“We still have enough cash, but it can only take us so far. We’ll eventually run out, what’ll we do then? I don’t think I can just go and get anotha’ job without being recognized…”

“The Beast will provide,” Patricia simply states.

Dennis is very tempted to say, _“The Beast will get a job?”_ but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “We still gotta eat. If we run out of money, we won’t be eatin’.”

“My dear sweet Dennis,” Patricia coos, patronizingly.

One of Dennis’ eyebrows twitch. Her terms of endearment sound…just slightly off.

She continues, “When everything is ready, the Beast shall feast upon the unworthy of this world. He will reveal Himself to the broken masses and bring about a revolution. In due time, the world will see how powerful He truly is.”

Dennis waits for Patricia to keep going, but she doesn’t. She acts like she has already answered his question.

“Okay…” Dennis slowly says, “but in the meantime…we still need money to get food and other necessities…and what we have can only get us so far…”

Patricia sighs softly. Ever patient, she says, “Did you know that when a lion successfully hunts a large prey, it can eat up to 50 kilograms of its meat at once? That’s about 110 pounds for you Americans. After gorging themselves, they can go well over a week without any food.”

Dennis frowns. He remembers reading about this fact back at the zoo at the lion exhibit, but he’s not sure where Patricia is going with this.

“So…” he says, “are we supposed to gorge ourselves with 110 pounds of food?”

“The Beast,” Patricia answers, “will gorge himself…with the sacred food.”

Realization dawns on Dennis and his eyes widen. “You…you sayin’ that…that we won’t need to eat anythin’ else? We’ll just live off of…of…”

“The sacred food. Yes. And we will be able to go for many days without eating once the Beast has feasted.”

“But…then we’d need to always be bringin’ him more people on a regular basis…”

“Of course.”

“He’d have to keep killin’…on a regular basis…”

“Yes. To cleanse this world of the unbroken. Those who have not been torn have no value in themselves, and no place in this world.”

Dennis stays quiet. Patricia observes him for a few moments before saying, “What did you think He would do, Dennis?”

“…Protect the broken,” Dennis answers.

“Very good. Yes, Dennis, and He shall. By ridding the world of the impure, only then will the broken be truly safe.”

Dennis hesitates for a moment before conceding, “Right…”

A few moments of silence passes before Patricia quips, “I do suggest you begin looking for some sacred food soon. The Beast is getting hungry…”

* * *

Dennis is parked down the block and across the street from a high school; the same high school that the first batch of sacred food attended. It’s a very irresponsible idea, but Dennis couldn’t seem to help himself, and Patricia didn’t offer any objections, which he takes as an authorization to do what he wants. His excuse is to find another batch of impures for the Beast, but the real reason is that he wants to see Casey.

 _“This is stupid,”_ Dennis thinks to himself. _“ **I’m** stupid. Casey might not even be here. She **shouldn’t** be here. If she’s smart, she’d be so far away from here-”_

And there she is. Dennis straightens and his heart begins hammering in his chest. School just let out and the students are filing out of the front door. He watches Casey walk down the steps of her old school, up the block, then across the street to wait at a bus stop with a lot of other students. There is a general air of chaos as students go their separate ways and either waits for their respective city buses or walk elsewhere.

He waits, his breathing getting a little quicker with every minute, just staring at Casey. She looks good. She looks, he wouldn’t exactly say “happy,” but she looks…lighter somehow. She no longer has dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks look a little rosier; she just looks livelier. She’s wearing less layers; her outfit is a bit more colorful and feminine. He likes her new clothes; she looks very pretty.

He watches her bus roll in and she steps on board. He starts his car and begins following her bus at an inconspicuous distance, slowing and watching who disembarks at every stop. A few miles down and about twenty minutes later, he sees Casey step out onto the sidewalk. His hands tighten on the steering wheel as he tells himself to be patient. He watches Casey turn a corner. He follows her for a few blocks as discreetly as possible; then he watches her walk up the stairs to this small colonial. He parks up the block and watches her enter the house from his rear view mirror.

He stays there for much longer than necessary. It’s absurd. He shouldn’t be here, let alone sit in his car in broad daylight in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Someone could recognize him, or even if no one did, no one can deny he at least looks suspicious. He brings his hand to his scalp but was deterred by the hood over his head. He’s wearing a dark gray hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, hoping it’s enough to obscure his features from being easier to identify.

Dennis evaluating Casey’s new home, he can see that there are no cars in the driveway, and there is a very good chance that she is home alone. He swallows as his fingers twitches against the steering wheel. He wonders if he can go see her. Just…knock on the door. He wonders if she will be glad to see him, or angry, or scared. He wonders if he can talk to her; if she will let him in, or if he will have to force his way in-

 _“No,”_ he thinks to himself. He just wants to see her. And he has seen her. Now it’s time to go.

He sighs and reluctantly starts his car; then he pulls out of his parking space and drives away.

* * *

Dennis has been shadowing three girls that do not go to Casey’s school for a few days now. He hasn’t seen Casey since he followed her home, choosing to focus on the task at hand and find suitable impures for the Beast, but with each passing day, he finds himself thinking about her more and more, until the need to go see her again becomes almost overwhelming.

He pushes Casey out of his mind when he spots those three girls leaving the movie theater; they just finished seeing a midnight screening of whatever is the hottest movie of the season. Tonight is the night that he will have to grab those girls. He has made sure they are impure and that they will be what the Beast wants. He watches those girls begin to wander off further away from the crowd and he follows.

* * *

Dennis steps out of his car to manually open one of the factory warehouse’s roll up doors, then he goes back into his car and drives inside. One of the perks of staying there is that he can drive right into the building. He steps back out to close and lock the heavy duty metal garage door behind him; then he walks back to his car and pops open his trunk to find three girls lying in there, unconscious. He feels slightly guilty that he had to knock them out and lock them in the trunk instead of the backseat, but he couldn’t risk being caught with these three underage teens passed out in his car. He pulls on the arm of one of the girls and yanks her up; then lifts her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He brings her to the room he has prepared for the sacred food on the second floor. He lowers her onto a chair and then ties her down with her arms wrapped behind the back of the chair; then he makes his way downstairs for the other girls.

After he has secured all of the girls, he’s a little surprised that he’s not even the least bit winded, especially since he had to keep going up and down stairs while carrying a load. _“A person,”_ Dennis corrects in his mind. _“While carryin’ a person…”_

He studies the girls sprawled in their chairs for a few seconds before deciding he should tie their ankles to each chair leg as well, just in case. If they wake up, they can technically stand and shuffle around while still tied to the chair. With their ankles tied down, they shouldn’t be able to do that.

Everything is going well as Dennis ties the ankles of the first two girls since they’re wearing jeans, but the last girl is wearing a skirt. He stares at her legs and swallows; clumsily fidgeting with his hands. Digging his nails into his palm, he thinks that she reminds him of the dark-haired girl he captured the first time around. He can’t really remember her name, or the blonde’s name, but he remembers she was wearing a similar skirt. He remembers ignoring Casey because she didn’t really evoke a visceral response in him at first glance, but the dark-haired girl in her tight mini skirt did. The fact that she tried to cover her legs with her hand and pulled her skirt down when she noticed him looking made him single her out. 

He remembers trying to pull her out of the room and she squirmed out of his grasp into Casey’s arms. Thinking back, he’s sure that Casey told her to piss on him to get out of whatever he had planned.

 _“Smart,”_ he thinks, slightly impressed at Casey’s quick thinking, but also disgusted at the piss. He’s not really sure what he would have done to the dark-haired girl. At that moment, his only request was to have her dance for him, after that…he’s sure he wouldn’t have touched her. He wants to believe that. He’s sure he would have just jerked off after sending her back into the room.

Well, it doesn’t matter because she pissed on him and that was the end of that. He feels a wave of guilt for trying to take advantage of the girl. He shouldn’t have done that. He also feels mortified for embarrassing himself like that, especially in front of Casey, but he wasn’t thinking then. He was working off of a half-assed idea and the hysterical thoughts of “getting’ away with it” and “who’ll ever know?” and “just wanna little show, nothin’ more; not hurtin’ anyone.”

Dennis continues to transfix his attention to the girl’s legs that he didn’t notice Patricia coming towards the light. Patricia watches through Dennis’ eyes for a few moments before she remarks, “Well then. These are the sacred food.”

Dennis blinks, coughs, and answers, “Yeah.”

“Very good. Thank you, Dennis. The Beast will surely be pleased with this bounty.”

“Gotta tie the last one down better. Gotta tie her legs to the chair, so she can’t walk around.”

Patricia studies the girl. She’s wearing a pencil skirt that has rolled up higher on her limply parted thighs.

“Why don’t I take care of her? You’ve had a long few days. You can rest a little.”

Dennis flinches slightly and says, “Alright.”

He steps away from the light and into his chair; Patricia takes over. She takes Dennis’ glasses off and pockets them. She gracefully kneels and ties one ankle down; then she pulls on the other ankle and ties that one down too. Finished, she sits back and gives the girl a once over, slowly raking her eyes down from head to toe. She looks back up to the girl’s thighs and she can see a peak of black cotton panties with white polka dots.

“Hm…” Patricia hums. Experimentally, she places a palm on the girl’s bare thigh.

“Girls like you sure do induce such a primitive reaction from Dennis, don’t you?” Patricia says.

The girl, still unconscious, does not react.

“I suppose I can see why,” Patricia continues, as she draws her hand down towards the girl’s calf. “But, he is much more enthralled in a different girl to trouble you. Aren’t you lucky?”

Patricia stands, takes an old towel, and drapes it over the girl’s lap. The towel reaches two inches from the floor.

“Girls with legs like ours can’t be too careful, can’t we?” Patricia quips with a little smile as she turns on her heels and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TricksterHidds for being my beta-reader!


	7. Choke It Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have created another fanmix! This time, I created a list of songs that Casey (or, ya know, whoever you decide) can dance to, either dancing for Dennis, or dancing with Dennis. These might not necessarily be songs either character listens to, though. Please check it out [HERE](https://allthenobodyppl.tumblr.com/post/637708520600600577/dancing-forwith-dennis-a-splitglass-fanmix).

After Patricia leaves the unconscious girls tied down in their room, she prepares a small snack for Dennis to eat. The Beast is not yet ready to come forth and it will not do to let Kevin’s body go hungry. She heads to the breakroom and makes a ham and cheese sandwich with paprika and mayo. She cuts it in half, plates it, and then places it on the table. She takes a seat before relinquishing the light to Dennis.

Dennis blinks a few times, feeling slightly disoriented; then he takes his glasses from his chest pocket and puts them on. He reaches for half a sandwich but then he hears a clatter coming from the girls’ room. He immediately runs upstairs.

The scene that greets him is that one girl has fallen over face down, but still tied to the chair. Her forehead and knees are against the concrete with the chair weighing down on her back. The girl in the skirt has also fallen over while tied to the chair, but she has fallen over to the side, one arm trapped between the wooden back of the chair and the floor. The third girl is still unconscious and unmoving. The girl that has fallen onto her face is moaning softly while the skirted girl is calling out to her.

Dennis curses and rights the girl that fell on her head. He curses again when he sees that she has a cut on her forehead and blood is running down her face. He knows from personal experience that it looks a lot worse than it really is. There’s a lot of blood going to the head and even a small cut will bleed quite heavily. He gently pries her eyes open and sees that her pupils react to the light, so he’s hoping that means she will be fine. Her sluggishness might be because the tranquilizer he used on her is still in effect and not because of a head injury.

The skirted girl is screaming at him. Dennis stands and goes towards her, thinking that he should quickly sit her upright first before he tends to the wounded girl.

“Get away from me, you fucken psycho!” the girl shrieks.

He flinches but grabs her by the back of the chair anyway and sets her down correctly. She’s wearing a tank top and her arm is scraped from the concrete and beading up in blood. Dennis notices that her skirt has rolled up all the way to her hips from whatever commotion that happened in this room. Her underwear is on full display and her legs are involuntarily parted from being tied to the chair legs. He swallows.

She notices him staring at her and she covers her nervousness with more false bravado. “S-stay away from me, _you freak!”_ she screams. “You fucken _pervert!”_

Dennis narrows his eyes and clenches his hands into fists by his side before shoving them into his pockets. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and leaves, making his way to his bedroom. He pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a box of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. He tucks the bottle of rubbing alcohol under one arm and then makes his way back to the girls’ room. When he gets back, he sees the skirted girl has fallen over again, onto the same arm that is injured. He sighs.

“Dennis,” Patricia says, “please, allow me.”

Dennis nods and surrenders the light to Patricia. She takes his glasses off and pockets them. She walks over to the girl that has since passed out once more, the blood from the cut on her forehead has slowed but it still drips down her chin. Patricia is pointedly ignoring the skirted girl and allows her to stay in her uncomfortable position on the floor. Patricia kneels and begins cleaning the girl’s face; then she pours some rubbing alcohol onto a piece of gauze and disinfects the wound on her forehead. As expected, it’s a cut that’s less than half an inch long; it just looks bad because of all the blood. The skirted girl continues to scream and thrash on the floor.

“Get away from her, you sick fuck!” she yells.

Patricia scoffs indignantly. _“Young people these days are so unbecoming,”_ she thinks to herself.

Patricia leans forward to bandage the girl’s forehead. It wouldn’t do to further damage the goods, of course. Finishing up with the girl in front of her, Patricia stands and heads towards the skirted girl.

The girl screeches, “Stay the fuck away from me!”

Patricia glares at her. “I don’t think you are in any position to be making any sort of demands,” she says. Despite her voice being soft and gentle, the girl feels like she’s been dumped in a tub of ice with the amount of fear that suddenly washes over her.

Patricia simpers down at the girl; then reaches for her. She flinches rather violently, but Patricia extends her arm further to grab onto the back of the chair and effortlessly pulls her upright once more. There’s a small smear of blood on the concrete from the scrape on her upper arm. Patricia bends to pick up the towel from the floor, snaps it once to get rid of some dust; then drapes it over the girl’s lap again.

The girl nervously blabbers, “M-my dad’s a lawyer! You let me go, an-and he can pay you whatever you want! He’s fucken loaded!”

“Enough with that language!” Patricia snaps. “Dennis may allow you to disrespect him like that, but I will not stand for such behavior.”

The girl jumps and shrinks in on herself.

Patricia continues, “And what of your friends? I just…‘let you go,’ collect a large sum from your father, and your friends get left behind?”

“My dad can pay for them too!”

“At least you wouldn’t leave your friends to their fates. I suppose that counts for _something.”_

“So…so you’ll let us go?” Poor dumb darling looks so hopeful with her eyes wide and smile wild.

“Answer my question. What were you trying to do?”

“Nothing…” She shakes her head. “We just lost our balance and fell.”

“I highly doubt that. Try again.”

The girl hesitates before answering, “We were trying to get to the window.”

Patricia hums. “Well, we can see what a miscalculation that was. Your friend is hurt, and so are you.”

Patricia kneels and unscrews the cap from the bottle of rubbing alcohol; then wets a piece of gauze. She wipes at the scrape on the girl’s arm and the girl hisses, trying to move away.

“I’m sorry, little bird,” Patricia says, not sounding the least bit sorry at all. She continues to meticulously wipe at the girl’s scrape and ignores her squirming and whimpering.

“Let us go,” the girl half sobs, resorting to begging. _“Please._ We won’t tell anyone. We’ll just go home like nothing’s happened.”

Patricia bandages the arm and then makes eye contact with the girl. “No,” she simply answers.

The girl becomes a weeping, sniveling mess as she bawls incoherently.

“Oh, none of that now, little bird.” Patricia cups the girl’s cheek and then wipes her tears with her thumb. “You are very important. It will be all over soon.”

Patricia stands and then goes into the hallway. She can feel Dennis hovering near the light – their own personal bodyguard almost always ready to take the light to protect the others. Unless requested to go back to his chair, or if he needs to rest or sleep, Dennis will usually be on standby. That annoyed all of the other alters, but Patricia and Hedwig welcome it. Kevin, back when he was awake, sometimes would appreciate it and other times would feel suffocated.

“We need to stabilize those girls, Dennis,” Patricia states. “It’s unlikely that they can escape, but caged animals will always try to find freedom. We wouldn’t want them to continuously fall over and hurt themselves. After all, they are to be pampered lambs, not tortured martyrs.”

Dennis hesitates, then says, “We can tie them against that column,” he nods towards one of the concrete pillars in the middle of the room.

“For now,” Patricia sighs. “Next time, I hope we can figure out a better way to restrain the sacred food. Something more refined that can squash all attempts of escape. It wouldn’t do to give them any sort of false hope; that would be cruel.”

“Right…”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Remember to eat your sandwich after you’re done.”

Dennis nods. “Thank you, Patricia.”

“You are very welcome.”

Dennis goes back into the room with the girls. The skirted girl has stopped her crying and is staring at him with her mouth hanging open. She most likely has been eavesdropping.

“You’re…you’re that guy, aren’t you? The one with multiple personalities?” the girl asks.

Dennis glances at her and doesn’t answer. He drags the other two girls towards the pillar and shoves the back of their chair against it.

“You’re that cannibal that kidnapped three girls a few weeks back,” she whimpers.

Dennis pulls on the skirted girl’s chair until she’s at the pillar too.

“Only one barely made it out of there alive,” she sobs.

He grabs a longer rope and wraps it around the girls.

“I don’t want to die!” the girl wails in Dennis’ face.

Dennis can’t look at her. His lips are twisted downwards, his eyes are furrowed and a deep crease forms between his brows. Lines crinkle under his eyes and around his mouth as he ties the girls down tightly to the pillar, but not so tight that they lose blood circulation.

He stands and says to the crying girl, “I’m going to give you something to help you calm down.” His voice is trembling.

He takes a bottle out of his pocket and then a white rag. He douses the rag with the liquid inside the bottle and then brings it to the girl’s face. He firmly presses the rag against her nose and mouth as she tries to shake him off.

“Just breathe in deeply,” Dennis pleads.

The girl is squealing against the rag, but soon her movements slow and she quiets down. Dennis takes the rag off of her face and then lets it drop to the floor. He releases a shuddering sigh, his shoulders rising and falling; then he backs away quickly. He leaves the room and hesitates in the hallway, feeling a myriad of clashing emotions that leaves him not really knowing how he feels.

He remembers he still has food in the kitchen and he makes his way there. He sits down and stares down at the sandwich, cut in perfectly symmetrical halves. He doesn’t really want to eat, having lost his appetite, but he doesn’t believe in being wasteful. It’s a notion that has been drilled into him from a young age. When growing up and dependent on his mother, being unable to finish food would usually end up in some form of punishment. Not wanting to eat the food would end up with a harsher punishment. So, now he picks up the sandwich and chokes it down. He immediately washes and dries the plate afterward.

He sits back down in the kitchen and just thinks; trying to sort out his feelings. He feels…something. He doesn’t really know what he feels. He doesn’t like the crying and the begging. Not like that. Not that kind of crying and begging. That doesn’t get him off, despite what Patricia may think. Despite what all the others may think. He’s not a monster. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s a monster. He doesn’t want to believe that the Beast is a monster. He doesn’t want to believe any of them are monsters. He wants to believe that they are doing right by Kevin; that, in the end, this is the correct path, and that, when Kevin wakes, there will no longer be a need to protect him because he will have awaken in a world that is safe.

“Ya know what they say ‘bout good intentions,” a voice comments.

Dennis sighs, slightly irritated, “Barry…”

“Road to hell and all’a that,” Barry continues.

“Hedwig’s supposed to be keepin’ you away from the light.”

“Kid’s gotta sleep. Besides, I doubt I can take the light from you.”

“What you want, Barry?”

“Come on, ya really gotta ask? I want ya to let those girls go.”

“Ya know I’m not gonna do that.”

“Fine.” Barry shrugs and raises both hands in a surrendering motion. “Then I just wanna talk.”

Dennis doesn’t say anything and waits for Barry to “talk.”

“Ya must know that Kevin can’t possibly want this.”

Dennis scoffs, “What do _you_ know?”

“I know ya wanna do what’s best for Kevin, but I know that this ain’t it. This can’t be it. Dennis, they’re just kids…”

Dennis crosses his arms and scowls.

“They’re just kids…like Casey,” Barry continues.

Dennis recoils slightly at the mention of her name. “Don’t talk about Casey; they’re nothin’ like Casey,” Dennis sharply says. “You don’t know a thing about her.”

“And ya think _you_ do? All you have are wet dreams-”

“Shut up.” Dennis blushes deeply. “This conversation’s over. Go back to your chair.”

“Dennis, I’m sor-”

“Get back in your chair, Barry. Now.”

Dennis can feel Barry’s regret over his cold words, but he can also feel that Barry meant what he said. The thing about Barry is that he can mean every single word he says and still feels sorry for it. The apology he wants to make is also genuine, but Dennis didn’t care to hear it. Barry steps away from the light.

At the mention of Casey, the ache that Dennis has been filled with to go see her for the past few days becomes devastating. His eyes dart around the kitchen table as he considers his options. He can go to bed, most likely to think about Casey and jerk off, and then shower and sleep…or…he can go see Casey. It’s late; no one should be up to see him. He can just go and check up on her; no one will ever know that he was there. He’ll be quick. He just wants to see her, that’s all.

Dennis makes up his mind and stands. He grabs the dark hoodie from his room and puts it on, zipping it up all the way and grazing his scalp with his hand before pulling the hood over his head. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casey will meet Dennis again in the next chapter!


	8. Drum Stick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has descriptions of violence and gore.

Dennis finds himself walking towards Casey’s foster home. She lives about five miles away and he decides to just power walk there while sticking to shadowy deserted sidewalks; making sure to keep his head down just in case he runs into any passersby. It takes him a little over an hour to reach her home, by then, all the windows in the front of the house are dark, and all of the neighboring houses have also gone dark. He takes a quick glance around to make sure he’s not being watched, and then he walks into the driveway and towards the backyard. The windows facing the backyard are dark too, except for one all the way on the top floor that still has a lamp turned on.

He looks up at that single window and wonders if that’s Casey’s room. He suddenly feels stupid and restless. What is he going to do? Start peeking into every window until he finds Casey? And then what? Stare at her as she sleeps like some kind of pervert? He spends enough time standing there debating with himself on whether he should actually look into the windows, or just quickly leave, that a shadow comes toward the lighted window on the top floor. He freezes and sees Casey looking down at him. He swallows and hopes that she can’t see him in the dark. He waits to see if she will scream, and if she does, he wonders if making a run for it will do any good, or if he will need to get Patricia to awaken the Beast to help get him out of trouble. He wonders if they will crucify him for this. He’s not sure who “they” would be, whether they be the police, the public, or the others he shares a body with, and he’s not sure what “this” is, whether it be the crimes already committed, the crimes that will be committed waiting for him back at the warehouse, or sneaking out to see Casey. Maybe all of the above.

Dennis straightens when he sees Casey waving at him. He stands there in shock and is tempted to look behind him to see if she might be waving at someone else. He slowly raises a hand and waves back. He can see her pressing the palm of her hand against the window but he can’t quite make out the expression on her face. He thinks she might be smiling slightly, the kind without teeth, but he can’t be sure. They stare at each other for a few moments before he realizes that his hand is still awkwardly frozen in mid-wave and he immediately shoves his fist into his hoodie’s pocket.

He sees Casey raise one finger in a “wait a minute” kind of motion; then he sees her walk away from the window. He suddenly feels Patricia stir. She and the rest of the others are supposed to be asleep. In a panic, he quickly shuts everyone out. The sensation is usually softer, like gently closing a door and locking it, kind of in a very sneaky manner, but because he’s freaking out, it feels more like slamming the door shut and wrenching the lock in place. He’s sure it startled Patricia. If she wasn’t waking before, she’s surely awake now, but he can’t be bothered with that at the moment.

He sees movement through the dark window on the backyard door; then the door slowly swings open and Casey steps out. She closes the door behind her and walks towards him. He can tell she’s wearing pajamas with a fleece cardigan over her top. It feels a bit intimate that she can be so dressed-down in front of him; his mouth goes dry and he swallows.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Dennis just states quietly the moment Casey is close enough to hear him.

Casey looks at him curiously. “Then…why are you here?” she asks.

“I…” He doesn’t really know how to answer without sounding like a stalker. “I don’t know,” he ends up answering.

Casey tucks her hair behind her ear and seems to accept his answer, or at least she doesn’t question him further.

“I have to go…” Dennis reluctantly says.

Casey looks at him, and he feels like it seems that she doesn’t really want him to go, but doesn’t want to ask him to stay either.

“Okay…” she says.

Dennis nods but doesn’t move. She stands there and waits patiently for him to decide what to do. He can feel Patricia trying to get his attention. It feels like a knocking on a door that gives him a pounding sensation behind the eyes. Dennis blinks hard and then backs a step away from Casey.

“I gotta go,” he says again, this time firmly, but more like he’s trying to convince himself than showing any aggression towards Casey.

Casey looks a bit concerned, but she lets it go. “Goodnight…” she says.

Dennis parts his lips slightly before responding, “Goodnight.”

He feels this ache to reach out and hold her in his arms, but he’s sure that would not go over very well. He decides to walk away instead. He could have moved a little faster, but he doesn’t. He takes his time and drags his heels. When he reaches the driveway, it takes everything in him to not glance back to see if she’s still there. He doesn’t want to look creepier than he most likely already seems. He begins to speed up after leaving the property and he doesn’t stop until he reaches the factory.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you how dangerous that was, Dennis,” Patricia scolds when Dennis lifts the mental block.

“I had it under control,” Dennis retorts as he goes into their bedroom and takes a seat on the bed.

“Did you?” Patricia sneers.

Dennis scowls but doesn’t say anything.

Patricia asks, “What if she called the police?”

“She wouldn’t come down to see me if she did.”

“What if she called the police and came down to _distract_ you so they would have enough time to arrest us?”

“Then…” he says, furrowing his brows in thought, “she’d try to stop me from leavin’…won’t she?”

“Fine,” Patricia suddenly snaps, “I don’t have time to argue with you. Do you feel it?”

Dennis pauses before asking, “Feel what?”

Patricia sighs, exasperated, “Do you feel _Him?”_

Dennis stills and digs deeper. He does feel something, but he chalked it up to nerves and, as much as he hates to admit it, arousal on seeing Casey and getting to speak with her, even if it happens to be all too brief. Now that he’s really paying attention, it’s more than that. His entire body is humming with pent up energy, starting at the base of his skull and spreading out to his fingertips and toes. There’s an intense hunger in him that hurts his stomach and chest. He can feel…something…underneath his skin, trying to claw its way out. He scratches at the back of his head and swallows; he finds himself salivating.

“The Beast is coming, Dennis. You must greet him.”

Dennis stands and takes a deep heaving breath, his chest rising and falling.

“Go find the masses of the broken,” Patricia says, her voice strained in her excitement. “Reveal to them the power of the Beast.”

Dennis growls, no, he’s not the one that’s growling. The Beast growls. Dennis can feel him as if he’s standing right behind him, breathing down his neck, breath hot and humid. Dennis moves in a daze. He unzips the hoodie and drops it onto the bed; then he unbuttons and takes his shirt off, as well as his undershirt, dropping them all haphazardly. Even though Dennis feels like he’s drugged, in the back of his misty mind, he knows that the Beast will just leave his fucking clothes out there in the street and he is not about to lose his clothing. As much as it pains him to walk barefoot out there, he takes his shoes and socks off too, because he knows the Beast will be kicking those off wherever the hell he wants. He takes his glasses off and finds he’s able to see perfectly without them.

Dennis begins walking, or more like staggering, and works off of pure instinct that he is sharing with the Beast at this very moment. He leaves the factory and starts running. He can feel the tug of the Beast to find the closest masses of the broken, but his own logic battles against the Beast’s wishes. Closer means more danger of being caught, of their home being discovered, so Dennis keeps running. If the Beast is adamant, he could yank Dennis’ control away, but it seems he’s willing to heed Dennis’ judgment. He runs for a few miles, but it doesn’t take him long to cover so much ground because he is also sharing the Beast’s speed, stamina, and strength.

Dennis smells a small camp of the homeless before he actually spots them in a corner of a public park. The Beast seems to have night vision and Dennis can see that camp very well, despite them sitting in the dark. He slows and makes his way over there, his breathing a bit labored. The group notices him and looks at him suspiciously. He stops in front of them and doesn’t quite know what to do or what to say. Good thing there isn’t a need to do anything; the Beast wrenches the light away from Dennis.

Dennis feels like his muscles are ripping and his skin is splitting. He could hear his bones crack and feel them stretch. His tendons are cramping up; his body seizes and he doubles over. He falls to his knees and he can hear screaming. Funny…the screaming voice sounds a hell of a lot like his own.

* * *

Dennis wakes some time later feeling groggy and a little out of it. He finds himself lying in bed but, for a few seconds, didn’t recognize his surroundings. For a moment there, he thought he’s supposed to be still living at the zoo. His memory catches up to him soon enough and he sits up. There is a weird peeling sound and sensation as he sits up, as if his back is stuck on the sheets and he pulls himself free. By instinct, Dennis reaches for his glasses on the nightstand before doing anything else and puts them on. He looks down at his hands and torso and inhales sharply through his nose. He’s covered in blood. It’s crusted into his fingernails, caked into the webbings between his fingers, and embedded in every line in his palms. He has a handprint of blood on his chest and he wipes at it furiously; it’s too small to be from his own. It’s dried and doesn’t really want to come off his skin, just barely flaking with each swipe.

He stumbles out of bed and sees that his sheets and blanket are also stained in blood. Even his pillow is stained in blood. He groans and violently yanks everything off of his bed, bundling it into his arms. He half walks, half runs to the laundry room where he yanks open the washing machine door and throws all of the bedding into it. He starts the wash and then half walks, half runs to the bathroom where he strips down and showers. He spends a long time in there, even though the boiler is still broken and he has to wash with ice-cold water. After he scours his skin raw, he stands naked in front of the sink and scrubs at his hands with a nail brush to get the blood out from under his nails. It takes him a long time to feel clean.

When he’s done, he stands there feeling drained. Finally having a moment to calm himself, he can taste stale blood in his mouth. He grimaces and starts brushing his teeth. He also spends a long time doing that. So long, in fact, that he’s no longer sure if the blood in his mouth is someone else’s or his own. He spits and rinses his mouth; then he gurgles with mouthwash. He finally dresses, his fingers trembling slightly.

Dennis knows that there will be a huge mess in the holding room waiting for him to clean up. He straightens his back and makes his way there. There is no excuse to waste time and procrastinate. The longer he delays cleaning up the mess, the harder it will be to take out the stains.

He just walks through the threshold of the holding room before he stops short and audibly gulps. The scene that befalls him makes him dizzy as he gets a ringing in his ears – a ringing that sounds more and more like high pitched screaming. He takes a step forward and his face contorts in revulsion. The girls are sprawled across the floor, each lying in a puddle of their own blood. The blood has since gelled over a deep, dark red. Their torsos have been torn, their guts and intestines pulled out around them. A few other unrecognizable organs have been removed and they look like they have been chewed on. In Dennis’ hysterical state, he thinks, _“At least he didn’t eat the bowels where the shits are…”_

Dennis suddenly gets a flashback. He sees through the Beast’s eyes. He can see himself pulling the skirted girl to the floor first. She screams as he rips her shirt off and then digs his fingers into her abdomen. Blood splatters onto his face as he eviscerates her. Her screams bubble up wetly as she chokes on her own blood before she goes silent. Her friends wail and thrash and cries but they all succumb to the same fate.

Dennis gags and presses one hand against his mouth. _“Don’t get sick. Don’t waste the sacred food. Choke it down; keep it down,”_ he frantically thinks to himself. This is what the Beast needs, right? If every time he eats, Dennis throws it up, everything he has done would have been wasted. All those lives would be wasted. He moans and squeezes the hand by his mouth into a fist.

“Let me take care of the girls, Dennis,” Patricia gently says.

Dennis swallows another gag, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’ll handle it,” he says, his voice is firm but miserable.

“It’s alright. Allow me. I’ll pack them away, and you can help me dispose of them later. You should rest; you have done so much for His revolution.”

Dennis seems undecided. Patricia assures, “I’ll do it, Dennis. Go rest now.”

He takes a shaky breath through his nose. He nods once. “Alright.”

Patricia feels him quickly fade away from the light. She takes his glasses off and pockets them; then she rolls his sleeves up to her forearm. She walks closer to the bodies and assesses the Beast’s handiwork. All of them passed with their eyes and mouth open and warped in horror. All of them have their shirts torn off; some of them have their breasts mauled. One of them is missing a nose. Each of them has varying chunks of shredded flesh and teeth marks sunk into their limbs.

An idea suddenly springs into her thoughts and she kneels, avoiding the puddles of blood. She begins rummaging in one of the girl’s pockets and then rummaging through her purse. Finding a wallet, she goes through it and pockets the cash.

“I suppose this should ease Dennis’ worry about money,” Patricia comments to the body, as if she was talking to someone still living, “or perhaps it will just displace that worry. Ah well, waste not, want not. Poor Dennis doesn’t have to know.”

She goes through each of the girls’ things and takes whatever cash she can find; then she stands to go grab some large garbage bags. When she tries to stuff one of the girls into the bag, she finds that rigor mortis has set in and she’s unable to fit the body into the bag. Patricia straightens and huffs, almost placing her hands to her hips, but remembers that her hands are stained in blood and lets them drop to her side.

She scowls, “I suppose it can’t be helped…”

Patricia goes looking for Dennis’ tools. Well, technically, they are abandoned tools in the factory, but they belong to Dennis now. She finds the hack saw and brings it back with her to the holding room. She kneels by one girl and pulls the limp arm away from the body; then places the saw against her forearm.

“You should let me do that, ma’am,” a deep voice with a slow Southern drawl speaks up.

Patricia twitches. “Hedwig, _darling_ ,” she says, her voice sounding sweet with an underlying edge of irritation, “you were supposed to be keeping the others away from the light.”

Hedwig comes towards the light. “I’m sorry, Miss Patricia! I didn’t- I- Mr. Luke, he-”

“Y’all gonna work that poor kid half to death,” Luke rebukes, “you and the rest of them Horde. He can’t keep all of us away forever.”

Patricia scoffs. She can feel Dennis come towards the light the moment he heard Hedwig’s distress.

“Listen, I think we can come to an understandin’,” Luke continues. “I reckon this has gone on too far. There ain’t no goin’ back now, and I ain’t goin’ to jail. There ain’t no stoppin’ you without any sort of repercussions; I can see that. They’re after us now and who can keep us safe? Who can fight for us? Far as I can tell, the only way out is with the Beast.”

Patricia considers his words. “You wish to join us?”

“Yes, ma’am. Count me in. I wanna be a part of this Horde. But…”

“But?”

“I want time in the light. Bein’ in the dark ain’t a good time. It’s…”

“Debilitating?” Patricia suggests. “Isolating?”

“Yes, ma’am. It sure sucks the life right outta you. The longer you’re away from the light, the more you sleep… Until…”

“Until,” Dennis suddenly speaks, “you wonder if you would sleep forever, or just disappear.”

There is a pause before Dennis continues, “Or you’ve been sleepin’ for so long that when you actually wake, months have gone by without you, and you don’t know what happened while you were sleepin’, and everythin’s different.”

Luke suddenly looks a bit worn, haggard, and a little guilty. “It used to be that we shared the light,” Luke says. “At least watch through each other’s eyes. We lived through each other; with each other.”

“And then some of you decided some of us shouldn’t have the light anymore; shouldn’t even be near it,” Dennis says, his voice stoic, not betraying the bitterness he feels.

“I didn’t think it’d be like that…” Luke replies, his voice sounding regretful.

 _“Bullshit,”_ Dennis fiercely thinks to himself, _“you didn’t care what it’d be like.”_

Everyone becomes quiet. After a few moments of silence, Patricia says, “Do not betray us.”

She hands the light to Luke but stays near. She doesn’t quite trust him. She motions for Dennis to go back to his chair, knowing that he would be sickened by the gory mess that still needs to be taken care of. Dennis does as he is told as he gently tugs Hedwig with him; he doesn’t want the kid to see the dead bodies. They each go back to their respective chairs.

Luke kneels, but unlike Patricia or Dennis, who would normally squat or hover their knees over the floor, Luke places his knee directly on the floor. Patricia winces slightly. Dennis is going to be unhappy about getting his pants dirty. Fortunately, Luke did not kneel on the blood.

“Alright, now,” Luke says, “you were gonna try to cut right through the bone here.” He places the hack saw against the forearm below the elbow.

“You could cut through bone with this here saw; there ain’t no doubtin’ that,” he continues, “but it’ll give you a hard time. What you wanna do, is cut through the joints.” He brings the saw higher right to the armpit.

“A few slices here and there,” he says as he begins cutting, “and you will get to that soft squishy thing between the joints. That’ll cut through easily. Then you could just,” he twists and pulls on the arm and it pops right off with wet crunch, “pull the limb off like a chicken’s drum stick.”

“Very good, Luke,” Patricia praises, “Thank you.”

Luke nods. He doesn’t take pride in Patricia’s approval, nor does he dislike it. He’s not enjoying what he’s doing either, it’s just what it is and he continues to break down the body while explaining his process. Luke is a hunter and he has butchered and cooked wild game before. The act itself of cutting a carcass to pieces does not disgust him. The morality of cutting apart a human carcass does ultimately make him uncomfortable, but he keeps going. He doesn’t look at the girls’ faces or their cloudy eyes. He’s doing what needs to be done, nothing more; nothing less. He’s doing this to survive; to live.

After separating the legs and arms from the torso, Luke asks, “Do you reckon I need to remove the head?”

Patricia thinks it over. “No,” she answers, “I think they’re in small enough pieces to fit into the bag.”

“Well, alright, then,” Luke says as he continues to work.

After he’s done, each girl gets stuffed into a separate black garbage bag. It might be silly, but Patricia doesn’t want to mix the body parts and made sure the girls are “complete” in their bags. She’s not really sure why she feels compelled to do this, she just feels that she should. Although, the organs are a bit scattered, so she takes a guess when placing them with the girls. The bags are then tied well and the opening gets a layer of duct tape to prevent any leakage. She has Luke carry them to the corner of the room before she takes back control of the light in order to clean and disinfect the bloodstains. She doesn’t believe Luke would do as thorough a job and that would just upset Dennis. Of course, Dennis, with the way he is, would most likely clean the area once more anyway, just to be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Casey didn't really show up all that much in this chapter. I'm such a tease, I know. But she will start showing up more and more from now on (at least that's my plan).


End file.
